Kaleidoscope
by A.M. Richardson
Summary: Life's twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn...
1. The Fall

TITLE: KALEIDOSCOPE - Part 1  
  
AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson SPOILERS: Small references made to many episodes, up to, and including season 6. Set future season, both Daniel and Jonas are in this story. RATING: R CATEGORY: Action/adventure/angst CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence/implied sexual violence (rape, non-graphic) and the aftermath/miscarriage and the aftermath/language/ minor character deaths/genocide. PAIRINGS: Sam/other (Joe), Sam/Jack, and some Daniel/Janet - friendship/romance SUMMARY: Life's twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn. DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: SJD – yes. E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com AUTHOR'S NOTES: So many friends have read this, made suggestions and been such a help, that I feel as though it belongs to you all. Where can I start? Arrietty, Jara, Sarae, Rosemary, Sally R, Jenny L, and to Kat H for giving me the idea for a certain scene. *g* I must include a thank you to the Yahoo group Badfic, whose exacting reviews gave me a kick in the mik'ta regarding getting details correct. Huge thanks also to Hoo and all the friendly peeps over at the beta_site Yahoo group, which is an excellent place to go if you want to write, but haven't got a clue where to start. Like me. *g* BIG smooches to Tricia ('eagle eye') Byrne. Any remaining punctuation errors are there because I'm getting old and can't see the red marks anymore. Lastly, if it wasn't for this person, you would all be yelling; 'TRIPE!' half way down the first page. You taught me so much, thank you, Lyta.  
  
This story is dedicated to Gran Menzies, who was full of endearing little truisms, and 'life's twisting kaleidoscope' was one of hers.  
  
****** The Fall  
  
******  
  
The morning dawned crisp and bright on Samantha Carter's wedding day. Sam was standing in the middle of her hotel room surrounded by a bustling group of women she barely knew. The wedding planner, the florist, the hairdressers and their hangers on were all milling about, doing what they were being paid to do. There was also her soon-to-be mother-in-law and her soon-to-be sisters-in-law, who were her bridesmaids. There were three of them to be precise, all older, all married and all shrieking at the tops of their voices.  
  
"I *so* need pain relief," she sighed and turned her attention back to her wedding dress, a flouncy lacy affair that right now, suddenly, she hated. The sleeves were long and had tiny buttons from the wrist to the elbow. She had managed the left sleeve by herself, but being right handed, she was now having problems. She tried to smooth down the skirt, but the lace was so stiff it was practically standing on it's own. Her chest felt very exposed and the neckline itched like crazy. What possessed her to buy this dress? It wasn't her at all. Oh wait, you didn't buy it, Joe did. The thought sounded so sarcastic in her head she felt herself turn pink with the embarrassment of such an ungrateful notion. Today was her wedding day and she was picking faults with Joe before they were even married!  
  
Sam moved to sit awkwardly on the bed, but her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the hotel room door. One of the shrieking women opened the door to admit her best friend, Janet Fraiser, and her adopted daughter, Cassandra, now a lovely young woman of eighteen.  
  
Janet smiled and gave Sam a wink; "Hi, honey, where were you?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "Wishing this thing had zippers," she indicated her sleeve. Janet chuckled.  
  
"Here, let me," she began to do up the tiny pearls. "Oh, Sam, you haven't started on the back. Cassie, make yourself useful, please." Cassandra pulled a face at all the 'girlie stuff' but obediently plunked herself down next to Sam and began to button up the back of her dress.  
  
"Oh, Auntie Sammie," Cassie began in a false whining tone; "I bet you wish you were in your jeans," she mocked. This drew a look from her mother.  
  
Sam laughed, "No, my fatigues actually, they would go well with your blush pink." She smoothed out Cassandra's own flouncy frock and wondered for the 'nth time today why she had ever been talked into such a big wedding.  
  
Of course, Joe Faxon had wanted the best for her, but the arrangements had been taken over by Joe's mother and father. "You always seem so busy, dear," was the stock answer Frances Faxon gave when Sam began to protest about them doing so much. Sam's own father was away so much as a member of the Tok'ra and her mother had died when she was twelve. Although he was coming to the wedding, her only brother lived on the west coast in San Diego. He had a young family of his own and she felt it wasn't fair to ask him to help. So, here she was. Big wedding, big reception, big dress. She even had big hair; Sam gazed ruefully in the dressing table mirror opposite her. Joe had playfully nagged her to grow it longer so she had had to obtain permission for the six weeks growing time. She had coped badly with 'in-betweeny hair' - too short to put up but too long to look professional. Now it was fluffed, backcombed and so stiff with hairspray she had trouble getting her headdress and veil over it.  
  
"There," said Janet's soothing voice, "all done. Cassie, how are you doing?"  
  
"Je suis finis," Cassie said triumphantly holding her hands to accept applause. Her mother inspected her handiwork. "Great. Now you can check on Daniel, Jonas and Teal'c for me, we need to ship out in ten minutes."  
  
Cassie groaned, "Aw, their room is at the other end of this place!" Catching Janet's eye again, she intoned resignedly, "I'm going, I'm going."  
  
"Meet us in the foyer!" Janet called to the retreating back as it disappeared out of the door.  
  
Sam grinned at Janet. "You have her well trained."  
  
Janet snorted. "Huh, ever since she's been away at college, she thinks she knows it all."  
  
Sam smiled again. " Well, didn't you?"  
  
Janet considered for a moment. "Well, I thought I did, but I was wrong. I wish I had been sensible like you and waited to get married. Maybe my marriage would have lasted longer than three years." Janet placed a comforting hand on her friend's arm. "But I'm sure yours will be a success," she finished rather hastily.  
  
Sam nodded, but her eyes remained dull as she nodded down at her hands. When she looked up, she saw her friend's face appraising her with kind concern.  
  
"I'm okay, honestly. I'm good to go!" Sam tried to grin away her doubts.  
  
Janet wasn't to be fooled. "Having second thoughts?" Sam winced as Janet pushed the right emotional button. "Wanna make a run for it?" Janet whispered conspiratorially, eyeing the Faxon harpies.  
  
Sam laughed quietly. "Absolutely!"  
  
Janet nodded, "Would that be second thoughts or running away?" she asked.  
  
"Second thoughts," was Sam's answer, her voice still low enough so that the conversation couldn't be overheard.  
  
One of Joe' sisters chose this moment to shriek with laughter. Sam looked at Janet, who smiled a wide, false grin and hissed: "There just aren't enough people in this room." Without another word, Janet took Sam by the hand and manoeuvred her carefully to the bathroom, skirting her friend's frilly train. After positioning a bewildered Sam down on the closed toilet seat, she locked the door and propped herself on the bath ledge. She folded her arms and said simply: "Talk to me."  
  
Sam shook her head. "It's fine, I'm fine."  
  
Janet tried again. "Sam, *every* woman has doubts before their wedding; its natural." She paused to take in her friend's pale features. "Look, I know the last couple of years have been really tough for you, for us all. I'll let you into a secret; I wasn't surprised that Joe asked to marry you, but I *was* surprised that you accepted. I know you too well, Sam Carter. I did wonder if this was some sort of mis-placed, re-bound relationship, to atone for leaving him behind with the Aschen?"  
  
Sam vehemently shook her head. "No, you know it's not like that. Joe *helped* me escape; he doesn't blame me for what happened. The Aschen didn't mis-treat him, too 'dirty' for them, I guess. Even Kinsey's crowing because he thinks they've opened negotiations again, after Joe was exchanged for the kosher co-ordinates." Sam paused to look Janet in the eye. "Actually, meeting Joe Faxon again was a bit of a catharsis for me."  
  
Janet's eyebrows raised and she nodded for Sam to continue.  
  
"I'm tired of playing the consummate professional. Look at where it has got me personally...Orlin, for example. Thanks to that little episode, I got my ass chewed off in Washington. Narim's dead, courtesy of Tanith. And then..." her voice tailed off as suddenly, she couldn't look at her friend.  
  
Janet finished for her. "And then Daniel. I know... we're all getting used to it." She sighed.  
  
Sam felt a pang of reciprocal concern. "I'm sorry, Janet, but losing him like we did, and then...I can't get my head around his return." Janet nodded. Sam abruptly felt a little self indulgent, mindful of her friend's own unassuming relationship with a certain bespectacled Doctor of Archeology.  
  
Sam continued. "I'm trying not to show it. I try to be careful, not show the 'feelings'."  
  
Janet giggled. "Mmm, me thinks if you had, a certain Colonel Jack O'Neill would have hauled your ass to a psych. evaluation quicker then you could say 'Urgo!' "  
  
Sam smiled at the thought. "I know! He should talk." She paused, uncertain as to whether she should continue. "In fact, I tried to talk to *him*, but he wouldn't have it."  
  
Janet's eyebrows rose again.  
  
Sam took in Janet's intrigued expression. "I got nervous when Joe kept wining and dining me and buying me all those expensive presents. I tried to talk to him off-world – the Colonel, that is; I guess I wanted his approval."  
  
Janet nodded for her to continue.  
  
"He didn't want to know, in fact he was quite short with me." Sam chewed her lip as she remembered the awkward conversation on a cold, uninhabited planet. His gruffness had hurt her more than she cared to admit. Over the years, she had come to regard the Colonel as a friend as well as a colleague.  
  
Janet coughed. "He has feelings for you, Sam."  
  
Sam considered Janet's reminder of an enforced declaration made under duress nearly four years previously. This had scared the hell out of her and she had carefully kept her distance since then. Sure, there might have been 'feelings' between them once, but that was some time ago. So much had happened: a roller coaster of emotions for them both that had resulted in the two once close people drifting solidly into 'Colonel' and 'Major' mode. All this had served Sam to find solace in Joe's company. Joe was handsome, funny, charming, attentive and not Colonel O'Neill. O'Neill was caustic, stubborn and out-of-bounds.  
  
Suddenly, there was a loud knocking at the bathroom door. It was Frances Faxon. "Are you all right in there, dear?" Janet started making faces causing Sam to giggle, but this was cut short by the wedding planner's nasal tones. "Miss Carter, Miss Fraiser, come along now; its show time!" she called through the closed door.  
  
Sam couldn't help a feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach as she stood, and she briefly wondered if she was going to lose her breakfast. That would give them all something to gossip about. She would be five months pregnant before the wedding was over! Well, if Joe had his way she would be pregnant when she came back from their Hawaiian honeymoon. They definitely needed to talk more about kids and stuff.  
  
The wedding planner was hustling them through the corridors. Since Clan Faxon was so huge, it had been decided to have the wedding at a large hotel in Denver that could accommodate all their needs. Again, Sam had a hankering after a quiet bash in Colorado Springs, and she suspected that her friends probably felt the same. She closed her mind off to the raucous chattering around her as they waited for the elevator that would take them to the foyer.  
  
Sam studied her dress again. It was a nightmare confection of frills, as convoluted as her emotions. The thought suddenly struck her that she didn't know Joe at all. Yet here she was, barely three months after his proposal.  
  
Here comes the bride. All dressed in white.  
  
********  
  
Jack O'Neill sat in his SUV parked in the hotel parking lot, nervously fiddling with the ribbons trailing from Sam's wedding present. Sam and Joe's wedding present. He studied the label. 'Congratulations Sam and Joe'. Joe and Sam. Samantha Faxon. Mrs. Faxon. He mentally shook himself. Was this JEALOUSY? Get a grip, O'Neill. She's your second-in- command - 2IC - off limits. Besides, its not like you ever had anything going, is it? It was a situation he had thought more and more about over the past few weeks.  
  
He had been the first to notice that 'Ambassador Joes's' attentions were becoming more persistent towards Sam. She didn't seem to notice at first. The diligent Major was always buried in her work, concentrating on missions, being professionally distant. Then, Jack noticed a sudden change in Sam. She seemed happier than she had for some time. Jolly almost. She had begun to return Joe's affection, spending a little less time at the SGC, even going away for weekends. Well, that was a good thing, wasn't it? Hadn't he ordered her to get a life? Jack had come to the bitter conclusion that if he was honest with himself, he probably was envious of Joe the Smooth, but what could he do about it?  
  
He supposed he was too damn old and too damn sour for Sam to show anything other than a platonic interest in him. That was fine. You didn't spend seven years working with a capable, motivated and optimistic person to not want the best for them. If Sam was happy with Joe, then so be it. Then why couldn't he get the 'Jonah and Thera mind stamp thing' out of his head? Why had he been such a jerk that night when Sam had tried to talk to him recently? She was not long engaged and seemed happy, but...? During a crossover on an off world watch, Sam had asked him what he thought of her getting married, and about Joe. He had brusquely cut off every one of her sentences until she had given up and curled herself up in her bedroll. He had wondered if she was crying, but he had known she wasn't. He had only ever seen her cry a couple of times; when they thought Daniel had died that first year, and after Jolinar. He had even politely refused her request to be an usher, inventing some lame excuse for being unable to stay in the hotel the night before the wedding. He was definitely a class A, could win prizes, all out *jerk*.  
  
Jack shook himself again. 'Come on Jack, smile and be nice. Do it for Sam'. He sighed and climbed out of his truck with the neatly wrapped coffee percolator and made his way to the hotel foyer. When he entered the large lobby the number of people milling about struck him. Everyone was very well dressed: monkey suits and boutique frocks. An A-frame sign bore the legend: "The Denver Regent Welcomes Guests for the Wedding of Mr. & Mrs. Faxon." A flower-bedecked floor to ceiling double door obviously indicated the venue for the wedding, so he began to make a move toward it. Suddenly, Jack spotted Teal'c, Daniel and Cassie and gave a tentative wave. Daniel caught his eye and raised his hand. Cassie followed his gaze and came bounding over.  
  
"Hi, Uncle Jack!" she smirked at her loud use of the familial term, hoping it would embarrass him.  
  
"Hi yourself, Barbie!" Jack flashed back an equally cheeky grin, then suddenly bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "You look really pretty, kiddo, I hope I'm going to get a dance! Or will I have to duel Dominic?" Cassie's face turned a bright shade of crimson, and Jack had to smile at her innocence. But he still could not shake the black feelings that had followed him from the car.  
  
"Maybe," Cassie stuck her chin out, and then grabbed his arm. "Come on, Teal'c and Daniel have to do the 'Places, Please' thing or Mrs. Faxon will start squawking again." Jack was dragged unceremoniously over to his other two teammates, who were dressed in formal tails, in keeping with their roles as ushers.  
  
"Well, who would think – you could be twins!" Jack quipped, in a vain attempt to lift his mood.  
  
"That would appear unlikely, O'Neill," Teal'c raised an eyebrow, glancing between himself and Daniel Jackson. "Dr. Jackson requires bi-ocular corrective lenses and I do not."  
  
Daniel looked at Teal'c over his aforementioned spectacles. The *look* said it all.  
  
Jack chuckled and turned to Daniel, "We've been working on his timing while you were gone – whadyathink?"  
  
Daniel shook his head. "I think Teal'c has been sadly lacking in my steadying influence," he said, but not without a twinkle in his eye. "You and Jonas have ruined him."  
  
"Speaking of the boy wonder, where is he?" said Jack. He had meant it to sound funny, but his humour was forced and he was aware that the comment had sounded sarcastic and condescending.  
  
It was Daniel's turn to raise his eyebrow. "He's already seated, Jack, you're a bit late."  
  
Jack glowered back and was about to reply, when Cassie broke in. "Here, I'll take that and put it with the others." She took the present from Jack's arms and scuttled off along the hotel corridor.  
  
"What was that?" Daniel queried.  
  
"Nuthin'. Didn't mean anything. I didn't sleep well. Is Jonas here with Lt. What's-her-name?" Jack's reply at least sounded contrite.  
  
"Rush." Daniel appraised his friend. He took a breath and asked again: "You okay?"  
  
"Sure, lets go find me a seat." Jack nodded to Teal'c and motioned for Daniel to lead the way, which he did, but Jack was aware that the younger man was watching him carefully. A seat was found for him near the back of the function room, which Jack was relieved about. He wasn't keen on weddings as a rule. In fact he wasn't keen on anything like this anymore. He was always painfully reminded of the family he had once enjoyed and then had lost: his son, Charlie; his wife, Sara. One lost by fate, the other by his own hand. Which was which? Sometimes he couldn't tell.  
  
The wedding march broke through his thoughts and he followed the other guests by rising to his feet. Jack then realized he hadn't even seen Joe, and craned his head above the many other guests toward the front. There he was, standing with his...brother? Joe the Smooth. A movement to his right made him turn and his breath was stopped in his throat as Sam and her father, Jacob, processed down the aisle.  
  
She was beautiful: an angel in white silk and lace. A fine veil covered her face, but even with that, even at this distance, Jack could see she was beautiful. He caught sight of blue eyes and blonde hair and a smile to melt his heart.  
  
All he could feel was a profound and overwhelming sense of loss.  
  
********  
  
Three weeks later, Sam was glad to be back at work. She had enjoyed the honeymoon. Hawaii was gorgeous, the people friendly and the hotel luxurious. There had been the lovemaking of course. Very nice, satisfying. Until Joe had come along, she was beginning to feel like a celibate. However, on some nights, their lovemaking had felt more like just sex than anything else. "Well, there's nothing wrong with that," Sam giggled to herself as she ploughed through the endless emails that had been piling up in her in-box. Presumably due to her pre-wedding nerves, she had forgotten to set an out of office notice. There were quite a few messages asking for something to be done, another from the same person checking on how she was getting on with it, and a third saying where the hell was it. One thousand, eight hundred and seventy-nine e-mails must be a record, she thought and found herself wondering how Joe was coping on his first day back. She glanced at the telephone and wondered if she should call him. Last night had been spoiled by their first argument and this was weighing on her mind. After checking the time, she decided to delay the call until after the morning's briefing. A light knocking on the open door of her laboratory broke her reverie.  
  
"Hello there, Mrs. Faxon." Janet smiled. This elicited a wince from Sam.  
  
"Oh, don't call me that, I keep expecting Frances to jump out from behind me," she groaned.  
  
Janet giggled, sharing the joke. "Mmm. Mrs. Faxon *senior* was kind of omni-present on the Big Day, wasn't she?"  
  
Sam nodded. "I even went and hid in the ladies room during the reception, but she tracked me down. I thought she was gonna jimmy the toilet stall door to check that my dress wasn't wrinkled." Janet laughed out loud at this and the two friends regarded one another.  
  
"So, how are you?" Janet asked in a more steadied voice.  
  
"Fine," answered Sam in a manner a little too insouciant to be true.  
  
"Just fine?" queried Janet. "I would have thought a newly married couple would be more than fine."  
  
Sam smiled humbly. "Well, actually.... we had words last night. Nothing much. We slept in the same bed and all that..." her voice tailed off.  
  
"Oh," was all Janet could manage. She smiled encouragingly. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Sam paused for a moment, the argument from the previous day sounding in her head; "The usual. And offspring, as in when are we producing any?"  
  
Janet snorted, "You've only been married three weeks! You need time to get to used to that, believe me, I know."  
  
Sam nodded. "I know that, he knows that. It's just...well. He said we mustn't wait too long because of my...age." She began to fiddle with a small chip on the side of her laboratory bench.  
  
At this, the doctor pulled a face; "He said that? So much for the diplomat!"  
  
Sam could sense her friend's anger and held up her hand in a placating gesture. "Don't worry, I told him he was a heartless bastard, etc."  
  
At this, Janet giggled, "Does he have any bruising?"  
  
Sam admonished her friend. "You shouldn't joke about that," but she grinned back. "Actually, I'm wondering if he has a point." Janet's eyebrows rose to encourage Sam to continue.  
  
"Well, it's true I'm not getting any younger." She paused. "For a while, I never thought I would have the chance for a normal life, kids, house, dog, you know." Her fingers continued to fiddle with the flaw in the bench.  
  
Janet nodded again, and Sam felt relieved she didn't have to explain the intimate details of her turbulent life over the past few years. She continued slowly. "I know you've run the tests to see if the Naquadah in my system would affect any children I would carry. I understand there could be a small risk." Sam propped her elbows on the bench, covered her eyes with her hands, and sighed. "But I was thinking, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to try? I know my work is important and I wouldn't want to stop fighting the Goa'uld. But am I so wrong to want a piece of what I am actually fighting for?" she dropped her hands and looked questioningly at her friend.  
  
Janet shook her head. "Of course not, Sam. But you know you have to be sure. You can't put kids back. They take over your life, empty your bank balance and come home with their navel pierced."  
  
Sam chortled at the shared joke regarding Cassie and her new 'acquisition'. She paused. "I *am* sure that I want children, but I'm not sure I want them right *now*."  
  
Janet looked at her friend seriously, and said slowly, "Ooookay, so what did Joe say when you told him that?"  
  
Sam looked up unhappily at this.  
  
"Aahh, hence the argument," Janet concluded. They sat in a companionable silence for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts. Sam glanced at the clock once more and jumped energetically off her stool. "Well, I'd better go, my briefing is in five minutes. See you later?"  
  
"Sure. We'll talk, okay? Oh, Sam, don't forget your shot of Depo- Provera," the doctor called to the receding form as she made a move to follow her friend.  
  
"Actually, Janet, I think I'll give it a miss," Sam replied over her shoulder, pausing by the lab door.  
  
Janet stopped in her tracks and stared back, puzzled. "No contraceptive shot after what you just told me?"  
  
Sam shrugged back, "Maybe, I'll leave this one to fate."  
  
********  
  
The pre – mission briefing started a little late as the assembled members of SG-1 and SG-6 all wanted to know how the new bride was, how married life was and how the honeymoon went. Sam did a good job of being pleasant and charming, but she could see Colonel O'Neill was wearing an expression of amused irritation. Instinctively she knew he wanted Business As Usual and that is what she intended to give him. There were very few women assigned to the SGC, although the balance had been improved somewhat in the past couple of years. Sam liked to think she was part of the process of re- dressing the skew. She had worked damn hard, in the lab, in the field *and* in battle. She didn't want to be equal to her male counterparts; she wanted to be better than them. Seven years ago, Sam knew she really wouldn't win an arm wrestling contest with Colonel O'Neill, but perhaps she could break his hand in the attempt. Their working relationship had moved so far from there, right until after her engagement was announced. She was no 'weak female', but surely he knew that after all this time? She wasn't sure as she took her seat. Her thoughts were pushed aside as she stood up at attention when General Hammond entered the briefing room.  
  
"Good morning, people, at ease," he added, waving the military personnel back to their seats. The General's face looked especially genial. He was carrying some freshly prepared briefing documents that he divided in two and passed down the table. He nodded a smile at Sam as he sat down.  
  
"I think that you are all aware as to why both SG-1 and 6 are here before you all ship out. We have had preliminary mineral analysis from SG-7 regarding PX7-253, which is indicative of rich Naquadah deposits. The boys up in Mineralogy are jumping up and down, I can tell you!" His joke gained a laugh from the company around the table, as much amusement was gained over comparing the ops teams to the 'geeky scientists'. Sam laughed too (even though she felt she should be defending her fellow 'geeks') and quickly stole a look at the colonel. He was glowering, with the open report that was receiving the full force of his glare. What the hell was wrong with him? Usually he never bothered with briefing reports, preferring to listen and ask questions instead. If she was hoping to catch his eye to share the joke, he didn't acknowledge her.  
  
Sam returned her attention back to the conference. The encouraging analysis was prompting a swift move into the second stage of Resource Recovery Protocols. Basically, the powers-that-be were pushing for Naquadah powered fuel generators in view of the escalating worldwide fuel crises and the rare off-world element was much in demand. The General summarized this, mostly for Sam's benefit and then indicated Major Paine from SG-7 should continue.  
  
"The natives from '253 are most certainly of Earth origin and their level of evolutionary advancement is equivalent to, say, Northern Africa of 200 years ago. The culture is African based, possibly Moroccan, indicating their ancestors were probably extracted through the Egyptian 'gate when it was operational. The people call themselves *and* their planet 'Amzawee'. They are friendly, willing to trade and there appears to be no Goa'uld influences other than the fact the people were originally displaced by them. Their commercial culture has not yet developed to the point of monetary exchange; trade is primarily based on the barter system. The Naquadah deposits mean very little to the people, as they find the mineral too hard to be malleable for their primitive industries. Gold and silver are much more highly prized, and Major Marx's personal stereo went down well!" Major Paine's assessment brought forth a round of chuckles and grins. "Basically, we have a Naquadah rich planet, with no evident Goa'uld presence."  
  
The last statement was met with more grins until Colonel O'Neill's voice broke through; "Seems too good to be true," he clipped.  
  
Major Paine cleared his throat. "I am simply stating our findings, as ordered, Colonel." He wasn't going to be shot down by the base curmudgeon.  
  
Jack didn't miss a beat. "And I'm simply saying, when something seems too good to be true, it usually *is* too good to be true." He returned Paine's defiant look with a measured look of his own, practiced after many years and honed to a tee. Paine lasted less than a couple of seconds before he looked back down at his notes.  
  
General Hammond coughed pointedly and shot Jack a 'leave it' look. He cleared his throat and soothed the atmosphere with his soft drawling tone: "Well, people, we'll all ensure we have our heads up on his one, just in case, won't we?" he added, with emphasis on the 'we' for Jack's benefit.  
  
Sam listened to the exchange with a sinking feeling. Her CO was in a filthy mood, and Sam wondered how far she was responsible. But how could she be? She hadn't even been here. She did *not* need this on her first day back, and fervently hoped she did not do anything to annoy him.  
  
When the briefing was finally dismissed she practically scampered out of the room only to be stopped by an annoyed; "Carter, er Faxon, a word before you gear up." She turned to face her CO, but then had the rather embarrassing duty to walk back into the briefing room and stand beside his chair, as he had not budged from his original position. He indicated with a curt nod that she was to sit next to him.  
  
Sam slid into the seat one away from Colonel O'Neill. "Sir?" she queried evenly, but not without a certain sense of trepidation.  
  
The Colonel cleared his throat. "So, how are you?" He looked her squarely in the eye.  
  
"Great, thank you, sir."  
  
"How was the vacation?" he continued.  
  
'What is this, Twenty Questions?' Sam thought, 'vacation'? "Great, lovely," she added with a smile, realizing that her answers were falling into a repetitive, monosyllabic manner.  
  
"Ready to get back to work?" Jack asked, his mouth tense.  
  
"Absolutely." Okay, this was a script now, Sam thought. She lifted her left hand to smooth her hair, which was still long and wound in a tight knot at the base of her neck.  
  
"Good." Silence. "No rings?" he nodded at her bare hands.  
  
"Not on duty, and its still 'Carter', sir. Remember, I said I'm not changing it?"  
  
"Oh."  
  
Sam nodded lamely. "Shall we...?" she indicated the door, as if to say: Lets go before we start a real conversation.  
  
"Be there in a minute, Carter. See you at the ramp." At this Sam nodded again and made her way toward the door feeling distinctly puzzled from the stilted exchange. It was her first day back; couldn't he have cut her some slack? She glanced around to see the taciturn colonel gazing at her retreating back wearing an unhappy expression.  
  
Sam turned pointedly and continued toward the locker rooms, bemoaning asshole superior officers, husbands, and life in general.  
  
********  
  
Over the next few weeks, SG-1 settled into a familiar routine. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter continued their roles as CO and 2IC. Teal'c accompanied them in between his missions to organize off-world ranks of rebel Jaffa. Jonas acted as the main anthropological liaison, with Daniel joining them occasionally as he adjusted to his life back on Earth. To the team, he appeared quieter than the Daniel they remembered. He seemed happy to share Jonas' workload and adopted the role of 'big brother' toward him, but Jack O'Neill could sense an undercurrent of sadness in his demeanor.  
  
Prior to his Ascension, Daniel and Jack's relationship had become strained to say the least. Daniel had begun to argue with the Colonel over every decision involving ethics and morals, as he perceived them. In the early days, Jack rather enjoyed the verbal sparring, inwardly recognizing the need for a moral centre to the SGC's First Contact flagship group (although he would have never admitted it aloud). When Daniel's young wife Sha're had died under tragic circumstances, Jack had felt his loss keenly and ensured that the team closed ranks to protect the distraught man's sensibilities. However, in the final year before Daniel's departure, the atmosphere had often become heated and the debates had taken a bitter turn.  
  
Now that Daniel was back, Jack was giving him space to adjust. He had been careful to avoid too much conflict, although their relationship was beginning to normalize. Jack had not been surprised that Daniel had moved in with the petite and caring Dr. Janet Fraiser; after all, his apartment had been packed up and the lease terminated several months earlier. They had always got along well, especially when Daniel was confined to the infirmary for one thing or another, which was often. However, he was amused that Daniel had made no progress whatsoever to find his own apartment, and, if truth were told, Jack was also pleased. He cared for his entire team more than he would ever admit. He was also acutely aware that there was too much pain and misery and broken dreams on this planet and all the rest. So, if someone found a little happiness, he was happy for them.  
  
However, he could not fathom why he was making Samantha Carter's working life such a misery lately.  
  
********  
  
A few weeks later, Sam was pacing nervously outside the infirmary trying not to look like she was doing so. She had already checked Janet's office and she wasn't there. The duty nurses had seen her hovering and had asked if they could do anything to help. Sam had lightly brushed them off, trying to act like she had just dropped in to see her friend on a social call. This was *so* not a social call. For what seemed the hundredth time, she looked at her watch. If she was late, Colonel O'Neill would have her a...and there was Janet walking along the corridor, her arms full of files. Janet caught sight of her and smiled, only for the smile to die on her lips when she took in her friend's expression.  
  
"Sam, what on earth's the matter, you're white as a sheet?" she asked in a concerned voice. Sam said nothing but steered the doctor through her office door, closed it behind her and dumped her off-world pack on the floor.  
  
"Janet, I need you to be my doctor right now; I'm on a time limit here." Sam's voice shook a little as she studied the pack at her feet.  
  
Janet plunked her files down on her desk and opened her hands, "Go."  
  
"I think I'm pregnant, I'm pretty sure, I need you to do a test." Sam's words came out a run, her right hand nervously tapping her left.  
  
"Really?!" Janet looked up, thrilled, but again gauging Sam's expression, nodded her head in a studied, professional manner. "Okay, what makes you think that you might be pregnant?"  
  
"Well, I'm late...er, sore breasts, and I've had some stomach cramps. But I thought that was a sure sign that my period was due!" Sam replied, chewing her lip. "My last period was really light, so I thought I was going to make up for it this time, but when I didn't start, I put two and two together... this morning actually."  
  
Janet held up a finger, "Did you say your last period was unusually light?" she asked, grabbing a planner off her desk.  
  
"Well, yes. I thought so." Sam's face was puzzled.  
  
"It might have been a little breakthrough bleed, "Janet continued, making marks on the planner, "You know, a small bleed even though the pregnancy is established? Sometimes it happens for the first couple of months."  
  
Sam sat down quickly on Janet's chair. "Oh, God, does this mean I'm further along than a couple of weeks?"  
  
Janet looked levelly at her friend. "Sam, what do you *think* you are, a week late?" Sam nodded.  
  
"Well, you could be nearly nine weeks pregnant." Janet's words hung in the air.  
  
Sam's could feel the blood draining from her face, "Nine weeks?" she whispered, shocked.  
  
Janet turned to fish in the small supply closet she kept in her office. "Human gestation is measured from your last proper period; if you've missed two, that makes you coming up for nine weeks." She turned with a small rectangular box in her hand.  
  
Sam could only manage an "Oh," and stared at the box Janet was holding. "Is that what I think it is?"  
  
Janet nodded, "A pregnancy test," she replied. "Do you know how they work?" Janet pulled out the test to show her. "Take off the lid, pee on the spongy strip, and then bring it back here." She pushed the test back into the box and thrust it into unwilling hands. Sam stared at the box that Janet handed to her. "Sam, it won't bite you, just pop into the ladies and get on with it. I thought you wanted to know for certain?"  
  
A nod. "Well, then go!" Janet gave Sam an encouraging pull out of her seat, then a push out of the door. She didn't have to wait long. In a few minutes Sam returned and unzipped a pocket of her BDU jacket. Gingerly, she handed a narrow white shape to Janet. The doctor took it carefully, removed the lid and examined the windows on the side. Two bright blue lines showed up clearly against the white.  
  
"Sam, its positive – you are *definitely* pregnant." Janet looked expectantly at the agitated woman standing before her. There was no reaction. "Hey, I thought you would be happy about this. You knew that there might be problems getting and staying pregnant. You're married and trying for a baby, if I remember our last conversation concerning this."  
  
Sam nodded, uncharacteristically silent compared to her normal ebullience. "Of course, I'm pleased," she said slowly, "I just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon."  
  
Janet smiled kindly. "In my experience, it seems as though life has its own way of deciding when these things happen - my Mom called it; 'The Twisting Kaleidoscope'. You never know when it's your turn next." After watching Sam lost in her own thoughts for a moment, she broke through, "Have you had a chance to talk to Joe yet?"  
  
"No." Sam shook her head, "He's in Washington, again."  
  
Janet snorted, "It's a wonder you two ever got pregnant, judging by the amount of time you spend apart. Why don't you call him?" she nodded toward the telephone on her desk.  
  
"I don't really have time," Sam pulled off her watch cover to check, "Damn! I'm late, and I've already had a warning this week." She bent down to pick up her discarded pack.  
  
Janet started. "Wait. You've had a *warning*? *You've* had a warning? From whom?"  
  
Sam sighed, "Colonel O'Neill." She waved off her friend's perplexed expression. "Janet, he had every right; I was late twice in a row. There was no excuse: I couldn't get myself to wake up. At least I know why I've been so tired lately." She deftly shouldered her pack and began to fasten the clips.  
  
Janet realized what was happening. "Whoa there, Superwoman, what do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Janet, please don't stop me. We know 'gate travel is safe for unborn children because Lt. Sharpe was five months along before she even realized she was pregnant, and before the lab got the tests right," she added, slyly.  
  
"Yes, thank you so much for reminding me, *Major*." Janet crossed her arms across her chest with a bemused expression. "That is why I intend to take extra care of any more expectant mothers that come my way. I'm signing you off." Janet turned to pull some paperwork out of a tray.  
  
Sam wasn't going to be outdone by Janet's doctor's orders persona. "Janet, I'm fine, honestly. I haven't even been sick. This is just a quick trip to check up on SG-7's mining operation on PX7-253. It was due to be SG-3, but Pooley's on paternity leave. I'll be back in two hours. I'm absolutely fine."  
  
Janet said nothing, but continued to write.  
  
Sam shifted her feet and tried another tactic. "Janet, please, don't write me off as 'the pregnant one' already. Let me do this, and I promise I'll be a good girl and let you run every test you want when we get back. Before lunch, even?" Janet stopped writing and Sam knew she had won. She so loved getting her own way.  
  
"Okay." Janet's lips pursed. "But I want you back in my office as soon as your feet hit the ramp earth-side. Absolutely *the* minute," she added in a resigned tone.  
  
Sam flung her arms about Janet. "Thanks!" she called brightly as she headed for the door.  
  
"Sam." Janet's words stopped her short; had she changed her mind?  
  
"Congratulations, *Mom*!"  
  
Sam felt a sudden rush of pleasure at those simple words. She could not stop grinning all the way down the corridor.  
  
********  
  
Rounding the blast doors on level 28, Sam's grin faded rapidly at the sight of Colonel O'Neill waiting impatiently at the base of the 'gate ramp. O'Neill's body language screamed annoyance. His arms were folded tightly over his P-90 and his lips were pursed together so tightly they were practically bloodless. Teal'c stood off to one side, grasping his staff weapon. Jonas had suddenly found one of the ramp lights fascinating and Daniel was fiddling with his cammo shirt hem. Sam got the distinct feeling they had been experiencing 'Death by Pissed Off Colonel' while they had been waiting for her. She took a deep breath as she passed through the level 28 blast doors. The klaxons were blaring to indicate an open wormhole, and the 'gate aperture was glowing soft blue and white ripples.  
  
O'Neill's eyes alighted upon her and narrowed. "Major, *so* glad you could join us." His tone was uncompromisingly sarcastic.  
  
Sam swallowed, conscious of the control room team observing her third late appearance in as many weeks. "Sorry, Colonel, it won't happen again." Because I'll be off the mission list and doing your paperwork, she mentally finished.  
  
The colonel was in an especially nasty mood. "Isn't that what you said the last time, Carter? Got a problem with timekeeping? Or was there something about 'Ship out at 0900 hours' that you didn't understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean, I apologize." Sam could feel a red flush creeping its way up her neck. Oh crap, here she was with fifteen years in the USAF, risen to the rank of major and she was being chewed out by her CO for tardiness. She glanced at the armory sergeant who was issuing her a P-90. He was deliberately not looking at her, drinking in every word.  
  
Jack was not going to let it go, enjoying her obvious embarrassment. "Not good enough, Major; you're on report."  
  
Daniel's voice interrupted; "Jesus, Jack, she's only ten minutes late." The Colonel swung around at the normally placid anthropologist with a poisonous look. "*Doctor* Jackson, I do not interfere with the archeological aspects of your work, therefore, I would appreciate it, if you would not interfere with decisions affecting my command. We're late people, let's not be any later."  
  
With that, he turned abruptly on his heel, marched up the 'gate ramp and practically stamped into the swirling vortex. Sam kept her gaze on her P- 90, subconsciously feeling several pairs of eyes looking at her.  
  
"You heard the Colonel," she heard herself speak out, "Let's go."  
  
With that she marched up the ramp to back up her commanding officer.  
  
********  
  
By the time all of SG-1 had emerged, Jack had already issued some orders to Sam and she was heading off to the native village. SG-7 was not there to meet them as arranged. One of the villagers was waiting for them to explain that the SG team were busy blasting and were delayed. Apparently, a large blast had damaged some of their equipment and that the radios would not work. Jack ordered Teal'c and Jonas to the blast site to check out SG- 7's situation. This left Daniel and Jack to follow Sam to the village. There was an uneasy exchange of glances as the two men fell into step side by side. Daniel gazed at the back of Sam who was, by now, marching purposefully some distance ahead on the worn dusty path.  
  
Daniel sighed quietly. Jack's bad moods were getting on his nerves. Sam was not the only one to be at the receiving end of Jack's temper, but she certainly seemed to be getting the worst deal. He had picked faults with her on almost every off world mission. Sometimes, his criticism had been justified; Sam had seemed distracted lately. Daniel had always thought of himself as a good reader of other people's inward emotions, and he felt that the new bride was not as happy as she should be with her situation. He very privately thought that this might be because she had married the wrong man, and that the man she should have married was at this moment stamping his boots into the ground and glaring at tweeting birds. Then perhaps they wouldn't both be so miserable, especially when they were together.  
  
It was mid-morning on the planet and the system's binary suns were traversing their arcs across the horizon. Daniel glanced at the forest off to his right. It looked cool and inviting; a refuge from the arid conditions in the open. His cammo pant legs swished against the dry grasses bordering the path. He took a deep breath. "Hey, Jack, wanna talk about the 'gateroom incident?" 'Great Daniel, just great, subtle'.  
  
Daniel actually *felt* Jack glaring through his sunglasses.  
  
"No," he barked.  
  
Adjusting his hat, Daniel continued. "I think you were wrong to bawl Sam out in front of us like that," He ploughed on regardless, carefully swatting at a cloud of gnat-like bugs that were bothering him.  
  
Jack responded with nothing except the stamp, stamp, of his boots. He was creating dusty eddies that were swirling out behind him.  
  
Daniel sneezed, then coughed. The dust and the bugs were getting to him. Jack, however, seemed completely unperturbed. Daniel continued again, "I think you should maybe chat to Sam off the record; there's obviously something bothering her." Oh boy, Jackson, your life in your hands.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw a muscle flicker on Jack's face. "Daniel, I've already told you; I do not need to justify my command decisions to you."  
  
Daniel began to congratulate himself for eliciting a response. "I know, and I agree, to an extent, but well, this is Sam."  
  
"*Sam*?" Jack practically spat the name out, "That would be Major Carter, USAF? Personnel subject to rules and regulations that you couldn't even begin to comprehend, Dr. Jackson. I retain the right to enforce discipline amongst my subordinates."  
  
"Jack, we *are* talking about Sam here." Daniel stared at Jack in disbelief.  
  
Jack's face twisted and he opened his mouth. Suddenly, he seemed to have a change of heart and he moved to stride away to the village.  
  
"JACK!" shouted Daniel after him, his own temper rising with the dust.  
  
Jack spun around, his sunglasses mirroring Daniel's face and walked back to face Daniel up. Saying in a low, controlled don't-screw-with-me voice; "Daniel, this conversation is over," he then turned abruptly on his heel and had covered 100 yards before the archeologist had the chance to think of anything else to say.  
  
Daniel had raised his right index finger in order to reinforce his point. He regarded the elevated digit in resignation.  
  
"That went well," he muttered to himself and began to follow.  
  
********  
  
Sam was relieved to reach the Amzawee village: it was getting hot, and she was out of breath. She pulled up her canteen, unscrewed the cap, and gratefully took a long swallow of water. Sam surveyed her surroundings, slightly familiar with the area having been here with SG-6 some four months previously.  
  
The village was small – only covering two or three acres or so with simple wattle and daub one-storey dwellings. It did boast a small barter market and a village pump where the villagers would congregate and chat. However, the busy community that Sam remembered was quiet. Too quiet. A few older residents still sat outside their homes, but instead of smiling and waving at their visitors as they had on their last visit, they kept their gaze down.  
  
Her guide from the Stargate muttered something about getting back to his family and disappeared down a narrow trail. As she replaced her cap on her canteen, Sam was struck by the absence of children. On the last visit, the SG teams had been surrounded by excited, babbling children begging candy bars and playfully stealing ball caps. Now, there was not a child to be seen. Sam began to feel distinctly uneasy and turned to check the Colonel's progress. He was only a short distance behind her, Daniel trailing at the back. She also noticed that as he read her stance, he quickened his pace, halting next to her.  
  
"Carter, what's up?" his voice was steady as he removed his sunglasses. Despite her unease, Sam smiled inwardly. He always knew when something was bothering her, and she felt the recent tension between them evaporate a little. Sam nodded toward Daniel, indicating they should wait for him.  
  
"Do either of you notice something odd about the village?" Sam asked, keeping her eyes moving and her hand resting on her weapon, her fingers flagged but readied.  
  
Suddenly, their radios crackled to life; it was Teal'c.  
  
Jack hoisted his vest radio closer to his mouth to reply, "We read you, Teal'c, report?"  
  
"ColonelO'Neill, upon our arrival at the blasting station of SG-7, it appears the entire team is missing." There was a mutter of background talking. "JonasQuinn says the situation resembles that of the Marie Celeste?" Sam noticed Jack quirking a grin. He caught her eye and raised his to the heavens. He pulled the radio up further, "Understood, copy that situation here. Secure the area and report to the village entrance, ah," he assessed the position of the alien suns in relation to the Stargate, "South side."  
  
"Understood. Over and out." Teal'c's precise reply responded and the radio silenced. Jack replaced his sunglasses and turned 360 degrees with his hand on his own P-90, carefully assessing the situation.  
  
Sam could sense his unease and was relieved it seemed her assessment of the situation appeared vindicated. Something was definitely wrong. Why had the guide at the 'gate lied? Where was SG-7? And the rest of the villagers?  
  
"Carter, where's whathisname that met us at the 'gate?" Jack asked, without taking his gaze off the distant tree line.  
  
"He said something about getting back to his family and went off in that direction," she pointed around the village outskirts.  
  
"Locate and interrogate, please, Carter." The order was precisely delivered.  
  
Sam fought a sudden urge to salute. "Yes, sir!" she barked and moved off.  
  
"Oh, Carter!" Her CO's voice stopped Sam in her tracks and she turned to face him, half expecting him to criticize her dusty boots.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Monitor comms., and...watch your back, " was all he quietly said.  
  
This left Sam even more puzzled as to her CO's behaviour, but she nodded and turned smartly along the well-worn village path.  
  
********  
  
Jack watched her for a moment, and then turned to Daniel, ignoring his questioning look. "Daniel, start talking to the old folks; try to find out just what the hell is wrong with this place. I'm on a recce." Daniel nodded and turned away toward the nearest villager, but Jack didn't miss his small headshake and shoulder shrug. Jack knew Daniel thought he was being an ass, and in a small way he appreciated his attempts to help the situation, but he could not categorize his own feelings, let alone explain or justify them to someone else.  
  
His thoughts went on an immediate back burner as he turned to the situation at hand. He watched Daniel gently speaking to one of the villagers who just seemed to smile and nod. The doctor moved on to an old man perched on a bench by the village pump, only to get the same reaction. Daniel turned to Jack and shrugged his shoulders, giving up his arms in an 'empty' gesture. Jack chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment then made his decision. He reached to his radio again.  
  
"Sierra golf one niner, this is Sierra golf one team leader, code 5, repeat code 5, village south..." his call to regroup was interrupted by a very fast talking, agitated Jonas.  
  
"No! Er...that's a negative, SG-1 team leader, er...a negative, Jack, you gotta see this! Problems...oh, er... over and out".  
  
Jack sighed, Jonas may not be a bad shot for a civilian, and, okay, alien, but he sure as hell had no idea about radio protocols.  
  
Jack spoke slowly into the radio mouthpiece: "Received SG-1, that's interesting. Are - you - in - immediate - danger?"  
  
There was a crackling and a burble of a muted exchange, presumably between Jonas and Teal'c. Jack could picture the ex-Jaffa ready to snatch the radio off Jonas' jacket and beat him to death with it, but he probably only raised an eyebrow.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then, can you tell us where you are?" This time he rolled his eyes at Daniel who had overheard the exchange and was now standing next to Jack peering at him over the top of his glasses. He swore that man could convey so much with that one look, ascension, descension, whatever.  
  
Jonas responded, "We're at a ridge south east of the village, there's a rocky outcropping above me..." While Jonas babbled on, Jack removed his mini scope from one of his BDU pockets and was following the directions looking for an area that matched the description. He interrupted Jonas: "Made you, Jonas, remain where you are. Teal'c, make sure Mr. oh-I-see-something-more-interesting-over-there stays where he is. Carter, are you getting this?"  
  
Sam's clipped breathy tones crackled from his handset; she was obviously jogging, "Receiving you, sir, already on my way, estimate seven minutes to point."  
  
"Roger that, ten minutes." Jack was satisfied that his 2IC had her wits about her, and felt a familiar feeling come over him; relief at her reliability, a little lacking of late. Thank God, she's pulling it together now, he grimly thought, as he headed away from the village along the same path Carter had used quarter of an hour previously.  
  
********  
  
Sam panted along a small worn path, her pack digging into her shoulders on every downward jolt. Trees sloped upward to her left and the village could be seen in the valley to her right. She focused her efforts on her hurried journey, trying to ignore the stitch that was nagging into her side. On the edge of her vision she saw two vague black figures hurrying towards her position from the tree line, and suddenly she was upon Jonas and Teal'c. The latter was obviously on high alert, his staff weapon clasped firmly in his hand.  
  
"MajorCarter." Teal'c acknowledged, but Sam could see his attention was focused on roaming the area, wary of danger. "It appears the planet has been compromised by Ba'al, he has abducted SG-7 and is expected back with a contingent of his Jaffa shortly. The villagers are hiding in the caves behind us." He pointed to a large overhanging rock, although no cave entrance was visible.  
  
Sam nodded, swallowing as she tried to catch her breath, supporting her left side and cursing her new physical weakness for a moment. "Does the colonel know about Ba'al?" she finally managed to spit out.  
  
"No, indeed, I thought it prudent to maintain radio silence regarding that intelligence," Teal'c replied, studying her closely. "MajorCarter, are you well? You seem-"  
  
Sam cut him off, "I'm fine, Teal'c. The colonel will be here any minute. What do the villagers want us to do?"  
  
Jonas broke in, "They want to get away from Ba'al, that much is obvious!" he spluttered out.  
  
"Are you sure, Jonas? We've tried to help people before that didn't want to be helped." Bitter memories of K'tau surfaced. Sam remembered all too clearly that the colonel was sure as hell pissed off on that planet.  
  
"They're begging us, Sam! They took all of SG-7 and most of the young men and threatened the women that they would kill all the children if they tried to get help! We've got to get them out of here!" The young Kelownan was becoming increasingly upset. Curiously, Sam was reminded of the passionate Daniel in full flow.  
  
"Where is...Droga...their Praetor, or whatever he was called?" Sam was following Teal'c's lead and scanning the skies on the lookout for death gliders.  
  
"They killed him! In front of his wife and daughter!" Jonas gestured frantically to the caves, as if that would help the situation. He shook his head. "Bastards." Sam's surprise at hearing Jonas use a word she had never heard him say before was broken by Colonel O'Neill panting up to hear the tail end of Jonas' last exclamation.  
  
"Hey! You could at least wait 'til I'm here before you start insulting me!" he puffed, but quickly sobered when he saw the serious faces in front of him. All three started talking at once, so he held up his hand and then pointed to Sam who quickly gave him a synopsis of the situation as she understood it, with much butting in from Jonas. Daniel finally caught up with the group and heard most of Sam's explanation. He tactfully pulled Jonas away from the 'soldiers' so they could plan their next moves.  
  
The colonel was furious that the Amzawee who met them at the 'gate had not told the truth about the situation. Although, Sam knew his blustering and bad language had more to do with the missing SG-7 team members than a frightened civilian. He tracked quickly up to the cave with his team close behind.  
  
The villagers shrank away at Jack's entrance, but some of the women recognized Sam and came closer. Daniel tried to find out who was in charge now that their leader was dead. An older man was pushed forward, obviously terrified. Jack began to demand information from the nervous man, which seemed to scare him even more. Finally Daniel intervened with a quiet: "Let me try, Jack." Both Daniel and Jonas were able to haltingly converse with the old man in his own language. He confirmed everything they knew already. The other villagers, mostly women, gathered around the group and as Sam looked at them, her heart began to rule her head when she saw the number of young children who were clinging to their mothers. Their eyes showed fear and hope. Fear of the horrors they had seen that day, and hope that these people from another world would make the bad men go away. She turned away from them to join the colonel and Teal'c at the cave entrance. They were discussing an evacuation plan.  
  
"...and round up the old folks still in the village?" the colonel was saying.  
  
Teal'c's response was straightforward in its brutal honesty: "If there is time, O'Neill. Our good fortune will run out, of that I am certain." Presumably the older villagers had been unable or unwilling to leave their homes.  
  
Sam stepped up. "According to Daniel, the leader says the Jaffa gave no indication as to why they were here, although it's obviously for the Naquadah. They only know it is Ba'al's doing because the Jaffa said so, and that they would be back soon. That was around noon, yesterday, sir."  
  
Jack nodded. "As far as I can remember, Ba'al didn't have a huge army of Jaffa like Osiris, et al., something doesn't add up..."  
  
His words were drowned out by the scream of a low flying death glider flying right over the back of their heads. It banked 45 degrees and came about for another pass.  
  
********  
  
Jack sprang into action, "DAMN! They're looking for the villagers! Daniel! Jonas! Start to lead the women and kids along the tree line and get them through the 'gate ASAP! Teal'c, scout that ridge; I need to know if there's a freaking mothership around here. Carter, bring up the rear! GO!" His team scrambled into action; Teal'c bounding away, the others organizing the villagers into groups to make their escape. Before long, everyone had made the tree line and on Jack's orders, was using the undergrowth as cover to thwart the regular reconnaissance passes by the death gliders.  
  
He could see Sam was helping some of the older women, keeping her head up to check they weren't being followed. He then saw her straighten at the sight of Teal'c who was now making his way rapidly toward the rear of the escapees. He hailed the colonel with frantic gestures as Sam urged the women to move faster.  
  
"O'Neill! A Jaffa landing party is tracking us, they are now less than 2 klicks behind!"  
  
Jack grimly nodded, "Heads up, people, gotta move faster now!" He pressed the terrified group ever onward, knowing full well if the Jaffa caught them, they would all be dead, or worse. The sound of shrieking, panting and the wails of children filled the air. "Daniel, tell them to keep the kids quiet, those bastards will make our position!" he ordered. Jack could feel sweat pricking the back of his neck as he assessed their progress. They were less than half a mile from the Stargate, but he was conscious of the sounds of heavy movements through the trees and knew this was going to be damn close. He ran his eye up and down the line. Jonas was doing a good job up front, driving the leaders on, a baby clutched in his arms. Daniel moved back and forth along the middle of the line, steadfastly urging the terrified people to safety in their own language. Teal'c was on alert; his staff weapon charged, protecting Sam who was also at the rear. She was carrying something...a child. He couldn't help himself. He dropped back a little.  
  
Suddenly, staff blasts and splintered trees filled the air followed by screaming from the middle of the line. Any semblance of order disintegrated as the villagers ran this way and that, confused and scared out of their minds. Jonas and Daniel abandoned any attempt at a controlled retreat and bawled at the villagers to run as fast as they could to the 'gate. Jack could see Jonas was almost there and recalled he had a GDO. Good he grimly thought, some are going to make it. He saw Teal'c making off in the direction of the firing and briefly wondered if he would ever see him alive again.  
  
Jack neared the end of the line when a huge explosion suddenly sounded overhead and he ducked as shards of tree trunks rained down on him. Almost immediately he was on his feet, calming the straggling villagers, mostly the older ones who were having difficulty keeping up with the headlong rush for refuge. They followed his frenetic pointing, staggering to the edge of the woods, their Stargate prize within sight. Jack was heading back, already looking for his 2IC. He jumped and scrambled over fallen branches, calling her name as loudly as he dared with Jaffa nearby. His heart was pounding in his mouth.  
  
"Sam!"  
  
Jack was rewarded by a groan and as he came nearer the sound, his pounding heart slumped. Sam Carter was pinned under solid looking tree matter. All that was visible was the back of a blonde head; her hair loose and her cap lost somewhere. He reached her just as another groan was made.  
  
"Sam, can you hear me? Sam?" He crouched by her head and tried to check her over, but she was almost completely buried by the broken branches. Jack carefully began to peel off the debris when a small sound close by made him spin around, his gun up and aimed. A little girl of about four stood before him. Her straggly black hair was stuck with leaves, and her huge brown eyes were wide with terror. Her dark grubby face showed streaks from her eyes where she had been crying. This was the child Sam had been carrying when she was buried. The girl must have been thrown free, or Sam had pitched her to safety.  
  
"Help her." Sam's quiet but clear voice sounded. Jack spun back from the girl and resumed pulling away the obstacles trapping his second.  
  
Sam tried to raise her head, but could only manage an inch. "Sir, there's no time."  
  
Jack moved more debris, conscious of the sound of advancing Jaffa, but mindful of not causing further injury. "Shh, Carter, we'll get you out, just hang on, that's an order."  
  
Sam's blonde head shook slightly, still facedown toward the forest floor. "No. Can't move. Leg's broken. You'll never make it with me."  
  
His hands stilled. Jack's mouth was dry, his tongue stuck. He tried a different approach. "Shut up, Carter! I'm gonna get you back to kick your ass! Don't forget!" He bent to continue his task, but the next words from his second in command stopped him dead.  
  
"Jack. Please. Help her. Get her to her mother. There's no time for me." He stopped. He knew she was right. His heart ripped inside him. The moment he had been dreading for years was finally here. Make a choice. Duty before self. No failing force shields. No last minute rescue. Make a choice.  
  
"I'll come back for you," he choked out. Sam could only nod and he knew she was losing consciousness.  
  
"I'll come back, I promise," he whispered to her still form. A staff blast bolt whizzed past his ear forcing him to duck. Without another word he sprang from his crouch, grabbed the sobbing girl and made off for the Stargate without looking back.  
  
********  
  
How Jack got back to the SGC he never knew. Staff blasts and zat fire were exploding all around him as he pelted to the 'gate, held open by...Teal'c. The warrior had made it, but covered in blood. Both soldiers charged through into the wormhole and emerged earth-side to chaos, SGC style.  
  
"Close the iris! CLOSE THE IRIS!" Jack had to bawl to make himself heard above wailing and sobbing as a medic wrenched the girl from his arms. Eventually he pointed to the 'gate and sliced a finger across his throat. He saw Sergeant Davies slapping his hand down on the palm scanner. The iris slammed shut, dulling the sound of heavy thuds that could be heard on the other side. Teal'c was immediately whisked off by a medic, leaving Jack alone at the top of the 'gate ramp.  
  
General Hammond emerged from the turmoil and barked at him: "MAJOR CARTER?!"  
  
The Colonel pushed his way pass the confused, wailing refugees and faced his own CO. He squared his shoulders and looked the General straight in the eye. "Sir! I had to leave Major Carter on the planet; she was injured, but alive. SG-7 are missing...request immediate permission to return for a rescue..." His voice tailed off.  
  
George Hammond was staring at him with a searching look.  
  
After a moment, Hammond nodded. "Understood, son, de-brief in one hour." The General turned to leave, and for a moment Jack saw his CO controlling his own face. He saw his personal shock and horror mirrored in another. He felt deeply buried emotions bubble to the surface and found he was short of breath.  
  
"General!" Jack's voice cracked, still trying to make himself heard over the melee that was beginning to subside. "Request *immediate* permission to retu -"  
  
Hammond swung back to cut in, his hand held up in acknowledgement. "I'll make that decision with you during de-brief, *Colonel*." Both men regarded each other silently.  
  
A small white figure appeared at the General's side. Janet Fraiser swung a stethoscope about her neck and handed a clipboard to a nearby orderly. "Sir! Triage complete. Permission to move the less badly wounded to the holding areas on levels 18 &19?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at Jack but he waved her off.  
  
"I'm okay," he mumbled, suddenly unable or unwilling to look Sam's best friend in the eye. Janet caught this and looked about. "Sam?" she asked, abruptly. Jack looked up at her and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing would come. He felt the room begin to move about him.  
  
The General gently answered the unspoken question, his face like steel.  
  
"MIA."  
  
Janet stumbled back and the General shot his arm out to catch her. Instinctively she grabbed on and gave him a horrified look. "Sir! I need to speak with you, immediately! In private."  
  
Hammond regarded the normally unflappable doctor. He lowered his arm and then his voice: "Doctor Fraiser, can't this wait?"  
  
Janet shot him a pleading look. "It's about Major Carter, there's a medical issue here on a need-to-know basis only, but I think perhaps Colonel O'Neill should be party." She glanced toward Jack who was still tense, as if the rescue mission was to be mounted immediately.  
  
The General indicated the upper level with a short nod and moved off, Janet behind him. Jack took one last look at the titanium iris and turned to follow. The three officers quickly marched to the General's office two flights up, Janet all the while issuing orders to her medical personnel.  
  
As soon as the door closed, Janet began in earnest: "Sirs, we've got to go back! We've got to get her!" her exclamation came out as a ragged gasp and she coughed in an effort to control her voice.  
  
The General's reply was soft. "Janet, you understand we can't do that immediately. We can't go back without assessing the risk, you know that." He looked at his second-in-command to support his statement, but Jack carefully kept his gaze neutral.  
  
"Yes, I do, but you don't know the full situation. We found out this morning...Sam's pregnant...Major Carter is pregnant. There are two lives at stake." Janet suddenly broke off and clamped her lips together.  
  
Jack felt the floor drop away from his feet.  
  
George Hammond's eyes were icy blue as they regarded her. "Let me get this straight, Doctor. You *knowingly* allowed a pregnant officer through the Stargate on a mission?"  
  
Jack saw Janet take a deep swallow. "Major Carter informed me it was a routine meet-and-greet. She said she'd only be gone a couple of hours." He could see her eyes begin to glaze.  
  
The General shook his head. "How many times has a M&G gone ass-up? The SG teams are all operational units. Even the researchers are combat-ready. What were you thinking?"  
  
Janet voice was unsteady as she answered her superior officer. "In retrospect, it was wrong, sir. I – I'm sorry, I..." She looked sideways at Jack, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly on his boots.  
  
Jack found he was having trouble keeping his breathing even. That morning's bawling out in the 'gate room was replaying in his mind.  
  
//"Got a problem with timekeeping? Not good enough, Major; you're on report." //  
  
She was pregnant. And she didn't say anything when he was being a complete bastard toward her.  
  
His life had just gone to Hell. Again.  
  
******** End of Part One 


	2. Winter

TITLE: KALEIDOSCOPE – Part 2 Warnings, disclaimer, etc in part one  
  
****** WINTER  
  
******  
  
Jack stamped down the control room stairs to the 'gate room with Lt. Cl. Ferretti of SG-3 and Major Marx of SG-6 following in his wake.  
  
They were finally going back. After an interminable Search & Rescue briefing and delays over what the off-world MALP could detect, they were finally going back. The area surrounding the DHD on PX7-253 was eerily quiet. There were no sign of ground forces, or of any aerial reconnaissance. But there was no SG-7 or Major Carter. They had delayed, and delayed too damn long in Jack's opinion.  
  
As he rounded the corner from the stairs, he was faced with four, very determined looking people. Teal'c stood off to one side at the ready, clenching his staff weapon. His wounds were not serious and he was to be second through the 'gate. Daniel was fiddling with his glasses and Jonas was practically standing at attention. Pale-faced, Janet clutched an emergency medical pack to her chest so tightly that her knuckles whitened.  
  
Jack began quietly, addressing the three friends who were not on this mission list. "Guys, I know you want to do this, but you know I can't let you." He silenced the outburst of protests with an upraised hand. "This is a potentially life threatening S&R mission, the SG units in there," he indicated the 'gate room, "...know their jobs. Janet, there are two very experienced field medics on SG-6; I know they're good, because you trained them. There are people needing your help *here*. I promise as soon as I know anything, you will." Looking her over, he noted she looked like hell and realized he probably did as well.  
  
"Daniel, I need you to go contact Nemtesh and see if the Tok'ra there can get hold of Jacob, ASAP." Daniel began to protest, but Jack cut him off with a brusque hand slice. "No, Daniel, not this time." Jack found himself reasoning in a gentle voice, surprised he could do so with his stomach tying itself in knots. He couldn't completely rely on Daniel's reactions since his descension, and Janet Fraiser could use her friend's support.  
  
He swallowed and made a conscious effort to steady his voice. "Jonas, go see Hammond and check if he needs a hand getting hold of Joe Faxon, please." Jonas nodded, muttered a quiet: "Yes sir," and turned to leave. Jack raised his arm and held Jonas' shoulder briefly; he was suddenly proud of the way the young man was trying to control his emotional nature. Jack looked levelly at Teal'c. "Lets go." He jerked his head to the now open 'gate that was swallowing up a FRED laden with supplies.  
  
Jack marched up the ramp. Even though he was not part of either of the deployed units, he was the senior officer and the person who knew Carter's last known position. As such, it was he who would command the mission to locate and extract SG-7 and Major Carter. SG-1's Major Carter. HIS Major Carter. He stepped into the swirling void and felt the cold pull of the distorting eddies on his body. His molecules came apart with a familiar sensation, streaming along the artificial singularity and coalescing on the other side. He stepped through, his P-90 raised. The immediate impression was that the area was deserted. The other unit soldiers emerged from the 'gate and raced to take up their assigned places. A column of black smoke was coming from the village. From his cover behind the DHD, Jack ground his teeth; something or some *one* was being burned.  
  
Shit.  
  
Ferretti headed off to scout the village with SG-3 in a tight formation. SG-6 was accompanying Colonel O'Neill to locate Major Carter, and a decision regarding SG-7 would be made once the area had been secured. He steadied his grip on his weapon and pulled off his sunglasses. It was so quiet. Nothing could be heard. Nothing except crystal twists of birdsong that seemed completely at odds with the pall of death smoke off to his left.  
  
Major Marx appeared beside him. "This way, sir?" She indicated the line of the forest. The forest where he had left his second in command less than three hours ago. Jack snapped his sunglasses back on and pointed with his P-90, "Yes, this way, Major, bring up the rear." He strode out, conscious of the scrambles of the other team hastily shouldering supplies behind him.  
  
When they reached the last known position of Major Carter, of course, she wasn't there. He knew that she wouldn't be, but he had hoped the Jaffa would not concern themselves with a badly injured female. The tree debris that had previously prevented him from freeing his second was now piled to one side. Someone had organized this. Jaffa organized into tree moving duty by...Ba'al? Jack strictly forbade any memories from his incarceration by Ba'al to enter his mind, but they came anyway.  
  
Ba'al had Carter.  
  
Fuck.  
  
********  
  
Teal'c attempted to track the enemy Jaffa movements, and this led them to the village. The smoke was beginning to dissipate as SG-6 approached, Jack taking point, and Teal'c covering their sixes. Ferretti met them at the village entrance in response to Marx's radioed notification – the same entrance where Jack, Daniel and Sam had been standing that very morning. His face said it all. Normally, Louis Ferretti wore an expression of boyish impishness. He was a popular, experienced commander; leading by example, always ready to diffuse a bad situation with humour. Now his slim face was drawn, and his mouth was a thin, tight line as he faced Colonel O'Neill.  
  
"It's bad, sir. Looks like the bastards blasted some of the folks that were left and then herded the rest into that hut..." he pointed, "...and set fire to it. It seems like they were alive when...." his voice tailed off and he shrugged.  
  
Jack cleared his throat. The smell of smoke...and something else...was strong. "Any sign of Major Carter?"  
  
The two soldiers stared at one another.  
  
"Not that we can tell, sir, but there are signs that a small ring transporter was used on the east side, so possibly a Teltac?" Ferretti pointed again. He faced Jack's gaze squarely.  
  
Jack nodded. "And no SG-7?" he asked, sharply indicating his head to the charnel house ahead of them.  
  
"No, sir." Ferretti seemed relieved.  
  
Jack became aware that he had several officers standing around with nothing to do, except observe the consequences of a military 'some you win, some you lose' scenario.  
  
"Marx!" he barked. Julia Marx practically jumped to his side at attention. Jack recalled it was her first command as she and Ferretti stood before him, eager for direction. They had more pressing matters than some unfortunate civilians who were beyond their help - he had to think clinically or risk betraying his emotions to the junior officers. He was good at this; practiced. They had to locate SG-7, if they were still alive and on this planet. Sam Carter had been taken to god-only-knows-where, so was also beyond their help at this time. The responsibility of command was weighing heavily on Jack's shoulders. He was their leader. He was supposed to issue a few orders, wind them up, let them go and everyone would get home without a scratch. But not this time.  
  
********  
  
Three hours later, Jack, Teal'c and SG-3 and SG-6 were traipsing back through the 'gate with two full body bags in tow. Captain Lynch and Sgt. Roy were located; their lifeless, staff blasted bodies concealed in some undergrowth near the base camp.  
  
Jack was the last to emerge from the wormhole and the first thing he noted was Jacob Carter and Joe Faxon staring down at him from the briefing room window. Her father and her husband.  
  
Piss.  
  
General Hammond waited at the base of the ramp, his expression firm, and his arms held stiffly by his side. Jack knew the General had been apprised of the situation, because he had ordered Ferretti to radio ahead - there would be no surprises this time.  
  
Hammond's voice was sympathetic. "Jack, Jacob and Ambassador Faxon are here. Could you spare them a few minutes before your post mission physical?" Although it was phrased as a question, Jack knew it was a demand and he nodded a curt assent. He followed his CO out of the 'gate room and up the stairs to the briefing room, his heart sinking with every step. He had faced really crappy situations before, but he had a notion that nothing could be as bad as facing the father and the husband of someone... someone he cared for. More than he was supposed to.  
  
Joe Faxon was staring at him as he topped the stairs and Jack was grateful for General Hammond's diversionary: "Shall we go into my office?"  
  
Jacob's mouth was tight and his brow furrowed as he passed Jack, a myriad of unspoken questions in his shrewd eyes; the older general was firmly in emotional-lockdown mode.  
  
As Jack stood to attention in front of his CO's desk, he could feel Faxon's gaze boring into him. He looked up to finally meet his gaze, only to find the younger man snapping his head away as he sat next to Jacob.  
  
General Hammond cleared his throat. "Colonel O'Neill, while you were gone, we were fortunate to contact both General Carter and Ambassador Faxon. They have been informed of the situation...and Major Carter's 'condition'...and would be grateful for any additional information that you may have at this time." He nodded at Jack, and then sat down heavily behind his desk.  
  
Jack nodded back stiffly. "Yes, sir." He turned towards Jacob. "I am sorry to say, there is no other information that I can provide at this time as to the location and the status of your daughter, sir." He paused. "And your wife, Ambassador. However, I can assure you I will do my utmost to secure her safe recovery."  
  
"Oh, really? Was it *safe* to let my wife, my *pregnant* wife, enter a dangerous situation like this?" Joe Faxon's voice was sarcastic and demanding.  
  
Jack was expecting this and stole a glance at his CO. Hammond's stony look told him that this conversation had already taken place with George getting the full brunt of the ambassador's thinly disguised fury. He was not a man to absolve responsibility by passing the blame onto Janet, so he held his tongue.  
  
"Not got an answer Mr.' Quip-of-the-day'?'' Joe continued. "Or are you happy she's gone?"  
  
Jack braced himself. "Don't be-"he caught himself. Swallowing, he recited diplomacy 101. "It appears a mistake was made. Of course I'm not 'happy'."  
  
Faxon frowned. "Oh, really? Could I have that in writing?"  
  
"Ambassador-"General Hammond tried to cut in, but Faxon was having none of it.  
  
"I've noticed Sam has been coming home quiet and upset lately...have anything to do with that, *Colonel*?" The emphasis on Jack's rank was stinging. "Oh, she won't talk, security aside. She won't hear a bad word against her *adored* commanding officer, Jumping Jack Flash here-"  
  
"Joe, that's enough." Jacob Carter's moderate voice cut through and this time the younger man acquiesced. Jack stared at the floor, absorbing everything.  
  
"I apologize." Joe Faxon swallowed nervously and ran a hand through his dark wavy hair. "I...it's just so difficult. I went to work this morning...a regular day. Now I'm told my wife is expecting our first child, but I can't speak to her because she's lost, and may be dead by now."  
  
"Son, we understand." Hammond's Texan drawl was calming. "All of us here have lost someone they loved very much. But in all likelihood, Sam is not dead. If this Goa'uld, Ba'al, wanted her dead, he would have killed her on the planet. She has been taken somewhere; we just have to find her. Selmak, I believe you may have more information?" He gave the Tok'ra an encouraging nod.  
  
Jacob Carter dipped his head a fraction and when he raised it again, the whites of his eyes were just dulling from the tell-tale glow that indicated the Tok'ra symbiote had taken control of the host's body. Jack swallowed. Despite the fact he trusted Jacob Carter, and had risked his life to save the acerbic general, he could not get used to the fact that he was a snake- head.  
  
When Jacob opened his mouth, it was Selmak who spoke.  
  
"The Tok'ra have been attempting to monitor Ba'al's movements for some time. The destruction of his stronghold by the rival system lords, orchestrated by the SGC, ensured his rapid flight to a distant sector. However, his destruction was not as encompassing as we had hoped. He has recruited some followers and is attempting to form an alliance against some of the system lords who attacked him. The Tok'ra intelligence believe that revenge is not the only motive, and that he wishes to secure more power and resources for himself."  
  
Hammond nodded: "Was that why Ba'al's forces were scouting PX7-253, because of the Naquadah?" he asked.  
  
Selmak shrugged in return. "We can only speculate on their motives for being there at this point, but we believe it was *not* Ba'al who captured Samantha. We are supposing it was an ally of his, named Mot."  
  
Jack jerked his head up from where he had been examining his boots. "Whoa! Whaddya mean you can't speculate on their motives for being on '253? And didn't we get rid of Mot on PX-whatever? Where Jonas had those visions?"  
  
Selmak responded. "To answer your second question, apparently not."  
  
Jack blew out a breath. "Let me take a wild guess - a sarc.?"  
  
Selmak nodded in response and continued. "Furthermore, we were not aware that any other mineral surveys had been performed on the planet you have designated as PX7-253. There has been no other alien presence in this area other than yourselves. How would they know about the rich mineral resources?"  
  
Jack stared at Jacob Carter's face. "Then *why* were they there?"  
  
Jacob closed his eyes. A flicker passed across the eyelids and when he opened them again, Jack knew he was talking to Jacob again. "Before I left Nemtesh, after getting this 'news', I made some quick enquiries." He nodded toward George Hammond who was still sitting stony faced behind his desk. "It seems as though Ba'al is pissed at you, Jack."  
  
Jack chewed his lip. "Oh, yeah, I wonder why that might be." His head jerked again. "Oh, *please* don't tell me that bastard was looking for *me*! How would he know where to look?"  
  
Jacob tilted his head to one side and looked pointedly at Jack.  
  
Jack swallowed. "Hold on, here. You, well, Selmak – whatever – said that it wasn't Ba'al who's got Sa...Major Carter; it was Mot." Jack quickly corrected himself, acutely aware of Faxon's steady stare.  
  
Jacob nodded. "They are allies, Jack. Well, kinda. I think Mot is pissed at you as well. You seem to make a habit of this."  
  
There was silence for a moment. Jack fiddled with the corner of his BDU shirt. He could see Joe Faxon's right index finger tapping against the arm of his chair, rapid but erratic.  
  
"Jacob, what intel have you got on Mot?" Jack finally asked.  
  
"Not much that I know of, but I'm going straight back to Nemtesh to find out what I can." Jacob's answer was resigned as he got up from his seat.  
  
Jack bit his lip again. "You know, Jacob, Mot never got a look at Sam; she was here when he locked us up. He won't know who he has." Jack wanted to say something more to the worried father, but found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.  
  
Jacob's nod was shallow and he pursed his lips. He lifted up his hand and flicked Jack's SGC patch on the left sleeve of his BDU shirt. "I think this might tell him. See you later, Jack, Joe, George." With that, the Tok'ra walked quickly out of the door and headed for the steps to the 'gate room.  
  
George Hammond rose from his seat. "Very well, gentlemen. I think this update is concluded. Jack, I will need to see you again after your post mission physical. We may have some intel of our own by then which might help. Bring Teal'c. Dismissed."  
  
For some reason, Jack felt the urge to salute and did so; snappy and serious, conscious he was breaching protocol.  
  
Without missing a beat, Hammond returned the salute and nodded him out of the room. As Jack left, he got the feeling that Hammond had spared him from one more minute with Joe Faxon. 'I owe you another, George,' he thought as he made his way to face Janet Fraiser.  
  
********  
  
Sam jerked awake, lifting her head from the stone floor. The pain was worse, but it was the cold that was bothering her the most. There was a window set high in the wall of the cell; however there was no cover, and it was a cold night. Vaguely, she knew it was night, but time was becoming meaningless as the days blurred on. She peered at the scratch marks low down on one of walls where she had started to keep a record of the days, but that seemed pointless now.  
  
A few days ago, she was trying to bind up her right ankle with strips of torn BDU pants when she felt the pains. She had known straightaway what was happening, and had no way of stopping it. Then the men came. Two of them. They forced her down, tried to pull off her clothes. She fought and screamed and kicked. They in turn had hit and hit and hit until darkness came a blessing. When she awoke, there was blood all over her thighs and her pants were down at her knees.  
  
The pains were dull, but all pervading. Shifting her slashed back to find a warmer spot made the aches in her legs begin to throb again. Sam Carter was aware her confinement, and her rapidly deteriorating physical condition was weakening her to the brink of eternal relief.  
  
Sam knew that she must not give up, but she was under no illusions that the SGC would have any idea as to her whereabouts. She was sure they would not stop looking for her, but she could not be confident of being alive if they found her.  
  
********  
  
Although Jacob Carter had been in contact every day for an update, it was another week before he returned to the SGC. Ambassador Faxon had been a permanent fixture in General Hammond's room for three days, but then had been called to Washington and had not returned. SG-1 and Hammond had poured over every scrap of intel on Ba'al and Mot that the SGC had managed to accumulate, but had come up empty handed. Jack had stamped around the SGC like a bear with a sore head, barely speaking to anyone except his team. Every time the klaxons blared to indicate an off-world activation of the Stargate, Jack was always the first one to reach the 'gate room, his face impassive, but his knuckles white. When General Carter marched purposefully down the 'gate ramp exactly one week to the day after his daughter had been abducted, Jack was waiting. As he followed Jacob up the steps to Hammond's office, he felt a foreboding sense of déjà vous.  
  
Hammond's aide informed them that the general had been called away to deal with a serious issue of a fight between two marines on one of the upper floors, but had been informed of General Carter's arrival and would join them directly.  
  
As soon as the aide left the room, Jacob Carter flopped into a chair and said sarcastically: "Nice to know my daughter takes a backseat to a bunch of jar-heads."  
  
Jack was still standing. "Jacob, I assure you- "  
  
"It's okay, Jack, I only have to look at you to see you look like hell." Jacob Carter dismissively waved his hand.  
  
Jack chewed his tongue and fixed his gaze on Hammond's angle poise desk lamp. "How have you been, sir?"  
  
"What happened to 'Dad'?" Jacob's features narrowed.  
  
Jack's eyes widened in return; he wasn't expecting this. "It didn't seem appropriate, under the circumstances."  
  
Jacob nodded and smoothed out a crease in left pant leg. "Oh, you mean with Sam being married to someone else an' all." There was an uncomfortable silence. "Tell me, Jack, why didn't you ever make a move on her?"  
  
Jack definitely wasn't expecting this. He coughed. "Sir, she's *married*."  
  
Jacob laughed bitterly. "That is the most naïve thing I've ever heard anyone say. I'm not talking about now, I mean *then*." He jerked his thumb backwards. "And don't bullshit me about frat. regs; I've seen it all."  
  
Jack paused before answering. A thousand thoughts suddenly crowded into his mind, all of Sam Carter. Carter smiling, Carter's eyes, Carter going off on a tangent about some theory to save the world again. Carter expecting a baby. Carter possibly with the cruelest sonofabitch he had ever had the misfortune to come across. Carter thinking he was a shit, and him deserving it. Jack swallowed. "I respect her too much. I respect her intellect. I respect her bravery. I respect the sacrifices she has had to endure and the decisions she has made." He stopped, not trusting himself to continue.  
  
It was Jacob's turn to swing in his seat and sit with his eyes wide. "Jack, I think that is the longest speech I've ever heard you make." There was another silence. Jacob spoke again. "Where's Joe?"  
  
Jack opened his mouth to answer just as General Hammond entered the room, bristling with irritation. "Ambassador Faxon is in Washington, Jacob," the general answered for Jack.  
  
Jacob's eyebrows rose. "Why isn't he here? Some terrible diplomatic crises keeping him away?" His sarcastic look fell somewhat when he regarded his fellow general's face. "George?"  
  
Hammond stood behind his desk, his fingertips spread out on the smooth polished surface. "Jacob, he was practically camped out here for a while; it was a relief when he was called away. He has telephoned me every day for an update."  
  
Jacob 'humphed' and crossed his arms over his Tok'ra garb. "It's just as well, he probably wouldn't be much use anyway."  
  
Jack suddenly found his boots very interesting again; the way the laces crossed over near the top was fascinating.  
  
General Hammond cleared his throat. "Jacob, I have no more news since 0800 hours when I last radioed you."  
  
Jacob nodded. "No, but I have some for you. I think we've found her."  
  
Jack's stomach flipped over and Hammond sat heavily on his chair. Jack shifted his feet.  
  
"Talk to me, Jacob." Jack was impressed that George could keep his voice so steady.  
  
"We have had an operative working behind enemy lines for some time now – you've met her; remember Sina?"  
  
The two officers nodded. Jack recalled the noble Tok'ra; as snake-heads went, she was one of the better ones.  
  
Jacob continued; "She's been undercover, assessing the connection Ba'al has to Anubis and some of the other system lords, specifically Mot. He and Ba'al have some sort of uneasy truce going on at the moment. Mot gets some of Ba'al's resources: ships, Jaffa and so on, and Mot puts in a few good words about Ba'al to the other system lords."  
  
"A marriage made in heaven," said Jack, cynically. He swallowed as the other two men looked at him. He gestured for Jacob to go on, but added a comment himself. "Should we be worried about the connection to Anubis?" Thoughts of Daniel's recent fate ran through his mind.  
  
Jacob shrugged, and then dipped his head. Selmak spoke. "We are still attempting to ascertain the true relationships between the system lords in that sector. There is much subterfuge between the rivals, so determining the true alliances is proving to be quite difficult."  
  
"You don't say," muttered Jack, toeing a flaw in the carpet. In the periphery of his vision he saw George Hammond giving him a look, but there was no strength behind the silent admonishment.  
  
Selmak smiled a little. "Fortunately, it appears Anubis is not involved in Samantha's abduction, but Mot most certainly is. She is being held on a planet controlled by Mot, although not a stronghold. It has a Stargate and is one of the planets that the Tok'ra warned the Tau'ri about in the last communiqué."  
  
Jack's head snapped up so quickly he felt his neck crack. "Well, what the hell are we waiting for then?"  
  
Selmak held a hand out in a placating gesture. "Colonel, please. I can assure you the priority here is to secure the rescue of Samantha Carter, but we must do so by a method that minimizes the loss of life to all concerned."  
  
Jack had reached his limit. "Oh Jesus, I want to talk to Jacob...Jacob, pick up will ya?"  
  
A nod of the head indicated that Jacob's consciousness had come to the fore. "Jack, the Tok'ra have a plan, we just need the help of SGC manpower to boost our numbers. Sam is important to us as well, you know." The general's voice was soft.  
  
Jack nodded. "I'm listening."  
  
********  
  
Jacob outlined the rescue plan to Hammond, while Jack butted in to clarify points and make suggestions. Within half an hour, Lt.Col. Ferretti and Major Marx were back in the briefing room going over the details.  
  
Sam was incarcerated in a small prison-like structure on Mot's home planet. Sina and another Tok'ra had infiltrated Mot's stronghold, as many were Tok'ra sympathizers and opposed to the system lords. When word of a blue- eyed blonde female came to the ears of Sina, she immediately recognized the description of Major Carter and had contacted the Tok'ra central alliance. The recovery plan involved two other Tok'ra and a civilian, which Jack was none too happy about, but it was a risk he was prepared to take.  
  
Word had already gone around the SGC that Major Carter's whereabouts had been determined and there was a suspenseful hush when SG's 1, 3, and 6 were geared up and awaiting the go-ahead from General Carter.  
  
Jacob strode into the 'gate room from the control mezzanine, his mouth a thin, tight line. He nodded a silent: 'Lets go' to Jack. The Colonel adjusted the glasses slung around his neck, wiping a lens absentmindedly with his finger. He addressed the assembled team of soldiers: "Okay, heads up on this one, you all know the score." He jerked his head to Ferretti to take point, as planned. Jack and Jacob stood side by side as they waited for the teams to be swallowed up by the wormhole. Teal'c, and a determined looking Daniel strode by, with Daniel shooting Jack a quick look. Jack half turned toward the normally vocal general. "Jacob, you okay?"  
  
Jacob fixed his gaze on a point on the far side of the dingy concrete 'gate room wall. "What do you think, Jack?"  
  
Jack nodded as the last of the SGC personnel disappeared through the 'gate.  
  
"That's what I thought." He paused to click off the safety of his P-90. "You know, we're gonna get her, Jake."  
  
Jacob did not reply, or even look at Jack as he brushed by him to follow in the wake of the other soldiers.  
  
**********  
  
Immediately upon exiting the wormhole, the SG teams were being hustled off to the right to take shelter in a nearby copse, although Jack was vaguely aware of the 'gate being guarded by two Tok'ra disguised as Jaffa. Bringing up the rear, he watched as a dark figure held up a hand for silence and pushed the cowl of her cloak back. Sina's aristocratic face acknowledged Jacob before firmly confirming that the necessary guards had been distracted or neutralized. There was to be only one hour to perform the extraction before nightfall. That was all.  
  
It was a go.  
  
Two members each of SG's 3 and 6 were to secure the retreat and so peeled off at intervals along the pre-planned circuitous route to Mot's prison in the fading light. Jack could feel his heart was thumping as he followed the Tok'ra through the woodland underbrush. This was reminding him of the other forest where he had left Carter some eight days previously. Eight days, three hours and twenty-seven minutes previously. The temperature was cooler than PX7-253 and Jack donned his fingerless gloves. It was raining softly as the gray stone walls surrounding the town loomed up in front of them. Jack mused the place was like a smaller version of Chulak, only a lot less friendly. Jacob was conversing quietly with Sina, who slunk away into the gloom only to return a few moments later with a wizened aging woman in tow.  
  
Jack stared at the old lady, her face lined with creases and her slight frame bent over. "*This* is the 'operative'?" The question was directed at Sina, but he was looking at Jacob.  
  
Jacob glared back. "Don't start, Colonel. She's the prison cook. She knows where the back door is, and she's gonna show us."  
  
"She must be over 100, for crying out loud." Jack stole another glance at the woman, who turned to gabble with Sina.  
  
Sina translated. "The matron says we must hurry. The guards are distracted, and the golden haired woman is very sick."  
  
Jacob shouldered his pack. "Well, are you coming? I don't know about you, but I'm going to get my daughter."  
  
As the rain began to fall harder, and the light faded, Jack heard himself say, "Right behind you, sir."  
  
Major Marx, SG-3, and Daniel were left just outside the prison walls. Ducking guard patrols along the edge of the town, the old woman led Jack, Teal'c, Jacob, and Sina into the prison kitchen.  
  
A human chain of rescue.  
  
The kitchen was cool and dark with rough wooden benches backing onto three walls. The fourth was given over to a metal range, which was surrounded by a variety of pots and pans. The quaint domesticity of the kitchen was jarring with Jack's mood. They were just about to follow a dark passage into the bowels of the prison when he heard voices coming toward them. Ducking into a pantry set off to one side, he dragged Jacob with him. Sina and the old woman were standing their ground with Teal'c placed behind them, as the Jaffa came into view. They pulled up short at the sight of the gold tattoo on Teal'c's forehead. It was the mark of a First Prime.  
  
"Jaffa, kree!" commanded Teal'c. At first the Jaffa were fooled, and started to pull themselves to attention, but the deception only lasted a moment. One of the Jaffa began pointing to Sina with a questioning look on his face. Suddenly, his decision was made; he called out, and then started to turn to make a quick exit. His scream was cut off by a two-inch bladed knife straight through the back of his neck, courtesy of Jack O'Neill. Teal'c slammed his staff weapon down on the other Jaffa's head, and the man slumped over the body of his dead comrade. As Jack stepped over the bodies, he hissed: "Knew that thing would come in handy."  
  
"Indeed," came Teal'c's unruffled reply. The old woman was gabbling away in her own language.  
  
Sina was nodding, her face impassive. Turning to Jacob, she said, "The matron says those Jaffa were the 'users' of Major Carter."  
  
Jack stopped short and took in Jacob's blanched face. "Whaddya mean: 'users'?"  
  
The desperate look from Jacob was all Jack needed to know. He pulled his zat gun and began shooting to dispose of them, assisted by Teal'c. The shots seemed to echo around the stone building and Jack looked about warily. "Lets pick this up," he said urgently and made off into the gloom.  
  
The woman gestured down the corridor; "Down, down." Teal'c threw his staff blaster to Sina and closely followed Jack at a run, his zat up and charged, with Jacob Carter on his heels. Jack could hear the Jaffa's reassuring pounding feet behind him. He was so close to Carter, he could *feel* it.  
  
As they searched the dark and stinking prison corridors they passed by some open barred cells. He shone his flashlight through the bars and was horrified to see a few inmates gazing balefully at the commotion with starving eyes. Many were lying on the dirty floor, obviously in too poor a condition to even move, awakening an unwelcome memory of an Iraqi prison. A red mist appeared on the edge of his vision and a sweat broke on his face. He clenched his fist around the barrel of the zat gun and set his jaw, pushing the dread down.  
  
The corridor branched and Jacob took the right at a run, so Jack and Teal'c swung left. They reached an area of the prison where the cells were safeguarded by thick doors, so the soldiers began to use their zat's on a 'lock-picking' setting to disable the mechanisms and gain access. The thin blue arc was illuminating Teal'c's rock-solid face as he kicked open the doors 'Door Number Three' revealed Paine and Garcia of SG-7, thinner and dirty, but very much alive. Dimly, Jack could hear Teal'c radioing Jacob for assistance.  
  
Two down, one to go.  
  
Teal'c caught up easily and thumped on ahead, zatting open the cell doors on the right while Jack tackled the doors on the left. He slammed open one of the cell doors like any other. Seeing nothing, he began to back out to tackle the next door in line. Suddenly, a scrap of white caught his flashlight beam.  
  
A symbol. A winged symbol. It was the SG-1 logo.  
  
"Sam!" The word was out of his mouth as he crossed the threshold in a rush. Teal'c was edging back, covering the corridor in both directions with his zat.  
  
Jack was suddenly struck by the stench: urine, excrement ...and something else. It assaulted his senses and he fought the urge to clamp his hand over his retching mouth. He leaned over the figure huddled on the floor, lying with its back to him.  
  
"Sam?" he asked again and laid a tentative hand on the shoulder. Hoisting his flashlight up further and shining it down, he baulked at what he saw. Sam was lying curled in a ball. She was naked, apart from her jacket, which she had obviously draped over herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. She was filthy from head to foot. From what Jack could make out, bruises covered those parts of her body that he could see. Dark bloodied circles surrounded her wrists and looking closer he could see where the skin and been rubbed off; she had obviously been chained up at some point. He placed his fingers on her carotid artery and prayed for a pulse. He was rewarded with a faint beat beneath his fingers. She was alive. He risked a breath and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.  
  
His hands were shaking slightly as he checked her limbs for fractures. Her ankles felt wrong. A voice broke through his assessment. "O'Neill, we must execute our prompt escape from this place." Teal'c's steadying words served to snap him back to reality. If they were to make it out of here in a hurry, it would help to have Sam's co-operation.  
  
"Carter!" Jack once again tried to rouse her. He moved the jacket to check for spinal injuries and again his breath stopped. Her back was covered in deep welts. Some were new, cut deep into her skin and oozing blood and pus. Some were older, badly healed into a darker red. They stretched right from her neck to the base of her spine, and lower, and there was something wrong with her feet. Carefully he moved her slightly to face him and gasped. There was dried blood and some other dried fluid covering the inside of her thighs. This had obviously been there for some time, and had come from her groin area.  
  
Not Sam, no, no, no.  
  
He must have said something aloud as he felt Teal'c's hand on his shoulder. He backed away.  
  
"O'Neill, we must leave now."  
  
Jack simply nodded for Teal'c to return to covering their position. He tied her jacket sleeves around her neck and swung his flashlight around, looking for something to dress her in. He spotted her combat pants lying in a heap in the corner of the cell. Lunging, he grabbed them and began to shake the clothing out to put them on. They were stiff. With blood. And something else.  
  
He dropped them, rubbing his fingers on the pant leg of his own BDU's.  
  
He took off his own jacket and laid his flashlight so that the beam illuminated the room. "Carter, c'mon. Wake up; we've gotta get you outta here". He picked up her filth-covered arm and began to rub gently. "C'mon, open your eyes." There was no response. Her skin was hot despite the damp chilliness of the air. 'Infection?' he thought. Jack was dimly aware of Teal'c radioing their situation to Jacob, and SG's 3 and 6.  
  
"Major Carter!" he spoke louder, risking any pursuers making their position. "You open your eyes right *now*, that's a goddamn *order*!"  
  
To his immense relief, Sam's eyes did indeed open, but what he saw there gripped his soul: fear, pain and despair stared back at him.  
  
"Please, kill me." Her whispered words were said so softly he hardly heard them, but when his brain registered what she had said, his anger bubbled to the surface.  
  
"Oh right," he said as he maneuvered her into a sitting position,"I risk my own ass to extract my second in command and she just lies there asking me to off her. Well, Carter, you'll find yourself in a disciplinary for that little slip. You're making this a habit." As he spoke, he wrapped his jacket gently around her waist, tying it off at the back using the sleeves as before. "Right, you can stand now." He took her arm and began to pull it around his shoulder to help her up.  
  
He felt a pull of resistance. "I can't," Sam whispered.  
  
"You can and you will!" Jack was becoming frustrated, but was also very afraid of what had happened to his second to reduce her to this.  
  
"Broken ankles," Sam croaked back; it seemed as though that was all she could manage. Jack stopped trying to pull her up.  
  
"Oh, okay, well-"  
  
Teal'c's voice broke in "O'Neill, footsteps approach."  
  
Without further ado, Jack hoisted up the Major in his arms and made for the door. She stifled a groan at her sudden shift in position and Jack realized that he must have been hurting her injured back. He was at once both proud of her resilience and horrified by her fragile physical state.  
  
"Sorry about this, Carter, but you're going home, like it or not," he said in her ear as she rested her head against his chest. Teal'c nodded that their escape was still clear, so both men retraced their steps, O'Neill slower than the big warrior because of the extra weight he carried. Every jolt was making Carter flinch, but she kept her eyes closed and remained silent.  
  
Upon entering the kitchen, Jacob Carter practically pounced on them, craning his neck to see his daughter. "Sam?" his voice cracked. He lifted a hesitant hand to brush away some hair from her forehead. "Sam, it's Dad. Speak to me, kiddo."  
  
Jack tightened his grip; there wasn't time for this. "Later, sir, okay?"  
  
Jacob's mouth turned down and his eyes began to glow. Selmak was plainly in charge, and she spoke in a voice deep and thick. "We must hurry."  
  
Sina and the old woman were gone with Paine and Garcia. Dodging through the town was proving difficult with Jack carrying an injured Sam, but at last the men emerged from the town walls to sight SG-3 and an anxious looking Daniel. The marines moved to flank their SGC teammate, protecting their wounded colleague, making no remark about her state of undress. Daniel stepped nearer to the inert form being carried in Jack's arms. Her eyes were closed and through the filth, her face was deathly pale. Jack realized that Daniel thought that she must be dead, but he watched him let out a breath when Sam's eyelids flickered and she squinted against the light.  
  
"SG-6 have secured a retreat, sir, all personnel accounted for," Major Marx was staring at the pathetic bundle, but then hardening her face, she nodded.  
  
The Colonel affirmed in return. "Very good, Major - let's move out." As they made their halting way back to the Stargate undercover of the forest, it began to rain, and Jack felt Sam stir. He exchanged glances with Selmak; they needed to stop. He assessed their position, and shot Teal'c a look. In turn, he signaled with a closed fist to Major Marx, who then re- issued the silent 'Halt and crouch' order to her men.  
  
"Two inflatable splints, a thermal blanket and a rain poncho, please," he stated. At once, the two marines that were carrying packs swiveled around to show their backs to their teammates. They hurriedly pulled out the requested items. Daniel passed Jack the blanket first, but Jack shook his head and indicated the poncho with a nod. "Lay it on the ground," he asked, calmly. "Now the blanket on top," he followed Daniel's movements.  
  
Jack laid Sam carefully on the blanket and proceeded to wrap it around her battered body with Selmak's gentle assistance. Now they were out in the daylight, Sam's injuries were even more sickening, but Jack clenched his teeth to maintain his control. However, Daniel could not. He tried to help the Jack cover their friend and colleague, but his eyes began to well with tears as he saw the extensive bruising and the streaky mess between her legs, and he moved away. Jack set his face to stone as he finished wrapping Sam, and adjusting the ankle splints. He pulled back and realized that she was conscious and staring at him, although he could tell her eyes were not properly in focus.  
  
"It's okay, Carter, we're going home," he repeated his earlier promise. He moved his gaze between Selmak and Teal'c, who had squatted next to him. Teal'c raised an eyebrow, but O'Neill shook his head to the unspoken question; there was no way he was letting go of her. Without a word, the Jaffa moved away so that Jack could lift Sam safely, and the silent group returned to the Stargate.  
  
********  
  
Daniel was first through the 'gate to see Janet and her medical teams ready and waiting to take the now unconscious Sam from Jack's arms, with Jacob following closely. There was a debriefing, during which Hammond was aware of the understandable inattentiveness of his teams, so he called it to a close early and ordered everyone to rest. Daniel was keeping a close eye on Jack, who delivered his report staccato. He heard General Hammond talking to him, something about being unable to contact the ambassador. The silent friends headed for the infirmary, their faces set like marble. Teal'c excused himself to perform Kel'no'reem, but asked to be disturbed if there was any news. This left Jack, Jonas and Daniel to take up vigil outside the infirmary. However, Janet wasn't letting anyone near Sam bar the team that was working on the Major. Daniel took this as a bad sign, but he said nothing. After three hours, Janet finally emerged.  
  
Jack's head snapped up and he was on his feet before she had crossed the doorway. Daniel stood slowly, taking in Janet's pallor and the bubble of emotions that threatened to burst through her ever-professional demeanor.  
  
"Well?" asked Jack, hoarsely.  
  
Janet swallowed before answering. "Colonel, I'm sorry, professional protocols dictate I must only speak to the Major's next of kin regarding her condition until she regains consciousness."  
  
Daniel raised his eyebrows "She's still unconscious?" he asked, stealing a look at O'Neill.  
  
"In and out of, Daniel, and that's all I can say, except I'm certain that her physical injuries will heal in time." It seemed good news, but Janet's face told another story which the three men understood.  
  
"She's lost it, hasn't she?" asked Jack, looking at the floor, his voice now quiet.  
  
Janet's mask began to slip and she turned away, "I'm sorry, I can't say," was all she could manage. The answer to the Colonel's question was clear to all. Daniel suddenly had enough and stopped her by coming up behind the grieving doctor and enveloping her shoulders with his arms. "Well done, Janet, we know she is having the best of care." She turned and smiled at Daniel, taking one of his hands and giving it a thankful squeeze.  
  
"Has anyone managed to get in touch with Joe yet?" Janet's question seemed to jerk Jack back from somewhere.  
  
"Oh, Jesus, I was supposed to phone him; he's in Washington," he spat, and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
Janet was horrified, "Colonel, he needs to be here *now*." Before Jack could say anything, Daniel looked directly into his eyes and said, "I'll do it."  
  
Jack looked back at him with what Daniel could only describe as misery. "Thank you, Daniel, but this is something I need to do, should have done. Excuse me." With that, the Colonel hurriedly turned on his heel.  
  
Daniel could almost feel Jack's reeling emotions, as well as his own.  
  
********  
  
As it was, despite Jack's best efforts and threats, he had to leave a message at the Pentagon. He slammed down the telephone receiver and glared at it. After all Joe's ranting about the lack of action from the SGC in finding his wife, Jack was surprised that he wasn't here, and puzzled that he couldn't be found at the Pentagon. He rested his elbows on his desk and pushed his thumbs onto his eyelids. Today's events kept replaying in his mind. He yanked open his desk drawer and fished around amongst the pens and paper clips for a packet of Advil that he knew was at the back. He popped a couple out, paused, and popped another. Scooping the caplets, he threw them into his mouth and swallowed the lot with a grimace.  
  
His telephone rang.  
  
Jack looked at the receiver and ground his teeth. Grabbing his jacket, he covered the distance to the door in three strides leaving the shrill tone in his wake.  
  
Five minutes later, Jack was dallying back outside the infirmary. The earlier commotion had subsided somewhat. Daniel and Jonas were gone, presumably to get some rest. He was debating whether or not to go in when Janet swung out of her office, her heels clipping on the polished floor. She caught Jack's eye just as he was beginning to slink off.  
  
"Colonel?" she asked questioningly, her expressive brown eyes assessing him.  
  
"Um...how's Carter?" he managed.  
  
"No change. Did you get in touch with Ambassador Faxon?"  
  
"No, but I've left a message. I'm hoping because he isn't there, he's on his way *here*," Jack shrugged.  
  
"Okay. Cell phone?" Janet's delicate dark eyebrows lifted.  
  
"Off." Jack replied, his face grim.  
  
The doctor nodded and fiddled with the stethoscope that was stuffed unceremoniously into her left coat pocket. "Would you like to come in? Jacob's been sitting with her, and he could use a break, if you're up for a challenge." The attempt at humour was flat.  
  
"Er...I don't know, I don't want to upset her, I mean..." his voice tailed off.  
  
"It's all right, Colonel, she's asleep." Janet tone was reassuring.  
  
"Sure." He nodded and followed the petite doctor to a closed-curtained area at the end of the ward. Janet disappeared through a gap in the privacy screen and Jack could hear a muted exchange between her and Jacob Carter.  
  
Janet's head poked out from the gap. "Come through, sir."  
  
Jack took a deep breath and quietly stepped through. Jacob was sitting on the bedside closest to Jack and looked up to acknowledge his presence with a nod. He was still dressed in the BDU's issued to him before they left for the planet and was sitting with his back slumped forward, his hands gripping his knees.  
  
Jack spoke first. "Jacob."  
  
"Jack." Jacob's voice was soft, although he didn't look round  
  
Jack looked slowly to the bed. Sam was lying on her left side facing them, her eyes closed. He could see a long, rolled up sheet on the other side wedged up against her, preventing her from rolling over. A frame had been inserted under the lower half of the sheet covering her body. Absurdly, Jack could recall seeing this in episodes of 'General Hospital' that he caught while on downtime, but never knew the reason why it was done. He studied her face. There was a large purple bruise under her right eye that spread across her cheekbone. Several other large and small yellow bruises were evident on her face and stick like arm, which poked out from the hospital sheet. Her wrists were heavily bandaged. IV's, tubes and cables snaked here and there, and the silence was punctuated by the steady sounds from the surrounding monitoring equipment.  
  
Jacob reached out and swept back a stray lock of his daughter's blonde hair, carefully tucking it behind her ear. He rested his hand near hers for a moment, and he smiled distantly.  
  
"She's so beautiful when she's asleep," Jacob stated.  
  
Jack said nothing, but nodded faintly and moved to sit in the extra chair next to the General.  
  
Jacob continued, never taking his eyes from Sam. "After her mom died, she used to have bad nightmares, but she was fine if Mark or I stayed in the room while she fell asleep. I used to stay and watch her for hours." Jacob bit back a sob. Jack slowly raised his right arm and tentatively rested his hand on the older man's back. He was surprised when Jacob didn't shrug him off.  
  
Jacob continued. "She lost the baby, did Janet say? Her ankles are not too bad, but she's gonna need plastic surgery on her back and maybe on her left wrist and...they...well, Janet thinks they...." Jacob broke off the headlong rush of words and inhaled deeply.  
  
Both men looked up at the sound of the curtain being pulled slightly to admit Doctor Fraiser. She unhooked the metal backed chart hung on the end of the bed. Jack slowly pulled his hand back from Jacob's back and watched in silence. Janet moved almost noiselessly around her patient, checking lines, making notes and adjusting the wad of sheets wedged against Sam's side. At one stage she lifted the sheet covering the frame. Before Jack looked away, he took in plaster wrapped ankles and a pillow separating her legs at the knees.  
  
"I could have saved her all of this!" Jacob burst out. Janet turned to shush him by reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, but he pushed it away. Looking into Janet's eyes he said miserably, "You know I could have saved her all of this."  
  
Janet worked her mouth and turned to fiddle with the EKG monitor. Jack had the distinct impression they knew something about Sam that he didn't. What was going on?  
  
Jack cleared his throat. "What do you mean, Jacob? I'm kinda confused here." He turned to look at Janet, who seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze. "Jacob?" he asked again.  
  
The hunched figure nodded. "It all came to a head when she was seventeen. She would come home from school and stay in her room for hours. I thought she was studying.. well, I guess she was, most of the time. Mark found her in the bathroom one night, out of her head. She'd taken pills and liquor and made some attempts to cut at herself. She kept saying everyone hated her. She had this big problem about being touched, kept kicking and screaming." Jacob's words came out in a rush, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure.  
  
Jack swallowed. Funny, he could always seem to see the darker side of people, maybe because he could see it himself. But this was new. He took in a discrete breath. "What did the doc say?"  
  
He could see the father's shoulders stiffen. "After they gave her stuff to barf in the ER, I took away for a while, to the coast, to a retired CMO I knew who owed me for pulling his son out of a hellhole in 'Nam. Mark was pissed at that; he wanted her to be nearer and for her to get more help. It just compounded all our problems."  
  
Jack was thunderstruck. He looked at Janet and then stared at the sleeping figure on the bed. Why hadn't this come out after Jolinar? His 2IC may have been hiding severe depression with suicidal tendencies and he didn't know?  
  
~ Did you know about this? ~ he mouthed to Janet, who was chewing on her lip.  
  
"Yes, I did," said Janet quietly.  
  
Jack shook his head in disbelief.  
  
Janet looked up from where she had been examining her hands and stared openly at Jack. "And no, it isn't in her medical file. Sam told me as a friend."  
  
Jack shook his head again. This was too much. "She never told me." It sounded so lame. Had he ever asked her?  
  
The sound of the privacy curtain being pulled aside made everyone look up. It was Lt. Rush.  
  
"Ma'am," she addressed Janet Fraiser, "Mr. Faxon is here."  
  
Jack quickly stood up, as Janet nodded. "Thank you, Rebecca, I'll be right there."  
  
Janet was staring at the small gap in the curtain left by the nurse's departure. "Here goes," she said to herself as she straightened her skirt. As she reached up to pull the curtain open further, she turned to Jack and said a little louder: "Thank you, sir."  
  
Jack nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'll go then...I'll come by later, if that's okay?"  
  
Janet nodded again and quickly exited through the gap. Jack turned to Jacob who seemed lost in his own thoughts. He decided to leave the man in peace.  
  
For once, you got nothing to say, Mr. Quip-of-the-day, he thought bitterly, as he followed Janet out of the cubicle, but immediately turned to go out the back door of the infirmary.  
  
As he walked blindly down the corridor, he was reminded of something a certain young eager Captain-come-Doctor had said to him right before their first mission together.  
  
//"You really will like me when you get to know me."//  
  
As he thumped the elevator call button, he muttered under his breath: "Oh, Sam, you have no idea how much."  
  
********  
  
When Jack returned to the infirmary, it was late into the evening. He was alarmed to find the infirmary lights had been dimmed, the ward deserted with Sam's bed empty and stripped down. He could hear quiet talking coming from Janet's office, and so edged toward the open door with his heart in his mouth. Rebecca Rush saw him first, as Jonas had his back to him, and she was on her feet in an instant.  
  
"Sir." She stood up straight, but the effect was ruined by the 'I *heart* Colorado' coffee mug that she was clutching. Jonas swiveled in his seat, his hand clutching an identical mug. His serious expression was replaced by a small grin at the sight of Jack.  
  
Lt. Rush looked like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Sir, we were just talking; there are no patients; Paine and Garcia have been discharged."  
  
Jack held his hand out. "No problem, Lieutenant. I just stopped by to get the latest on Major Carter. How is she?"  
  
Rush shot a glance at Jonas before stammering: "Major Carter's not here, sir. She was transferred to the Academy Hospital at 1700 hours. I assumed you had been informed." She shrugged ineffectually.  
  
Jonas cleared his throat. "Janet decided that Sam was well enough to be moved, and there's more surgery that needs to be done. General Carter and Mr. Faxon went with her. We just thought someone would have told you."  
  
"Evidently not," said Jack with a mixture of annoyance and sarcasm. He nodded at Rush. "Thank you and goodnight." As he left the room, he hesitated in the doorway, wanting to check if Sam had regained consciousness before they transferred her. He decided against asking, and moved to continue his exit.  
  
Then he heard Jonas' voice clearly: "Oh crap."  
  
********  
  
General Hammond pursed his lips and straightened his aching back. He had been sitting at his desk reading preliminary hard copy reports of Carter's, Paine's and Garcia's rescue five days previously. The General pushed his laptop further back on the desk. He noticed his screen saver had been activated and realized that he hadn't typed anything for at least ten minutes. He sighed and studied the swiveling phrase on the screen: 'Per Ardua ad Astra'. Those in the know had asked why he had the motto of the British Royal Air Force on his computer, but he had always smiled away the question. The motto had originally adorned a drinks coaster that had been given to him thirty years ago in an exchange of keepsakes following a UN evacuation of the island of Cyprus in 1971.  
  
"Through adversity to the stars," he said aloud, musing on the translation.  
  
He felt deeply for Sam Carter who had endured her fair share of adversities. However, he was under no illusions that his goddaughter had always understood that casualties of war were part of the job. Did that include the catalogue of injuries he had in front of him? He couldn't rationalize the situation. He was no fool, although many had made that mistake in the past to their disadvantage. He was also no stranger to delivering tough orders and expecting them to be obeyed; he had sent men to their certain deaths before.  
  
The missions that the SGC demanded resulted in a high casualty rate. Okay, he wasn't stepping over bodies every day, but the names of each lost man and woman would stay with him until he died. Most of the SG teams had suffered some sort of loss through death or injury. Until recently, it seemed as though the flagship unit SG-1 was living a charmed life; getting out by the skin of their teeth, recovering lost situations and team members just in time. Charmed no longer. He pushed the reports further away and lifted his coffee mug to take a swallow. He grimaced as the cold liquid tasted foul on his tongue - time for a refill, his fourth of the morning. A knock at the door served as a welcome distraction.  
  
"Come in,"he called, closing the covers of the classified documents. The door opened to reveal Jack O'Neill, looking tired, but smarter than usual. "Good mornin', Colonel. I was just thinking about getting another cup of coffee, would you care to join me?"  
  
The Colonel's morose expression was the one he had been wearing since his 2IC had been moved to the AF Academy hospital. "No, thank you, sir, I'm good."  
  
The General nodded. "Then what can I do for you, son?" He watched as Jack said nothing, but began to fiddle with the brass angle poise lamp on the left hand corner of his desk.  
  
"Don't break that, Jack, it's still USAF property." He watched as Jack looked up in surprise and returned the General's soft attempt at humor with an awkward smile.  
  
"Sit down, Colonel, you're makin' my office look untidy." George indicated a chair. Jack made a move to the proffered chair, then appeared to change his mind and stepped back, then stepped forward again. The effect was perversely comical. George sighed. "Jack, for pete's sake, will you *please* sit down." He pressed a button on a discrete desk intercom. "Andrew, would you be so good as to bring in two cups of coffee when you are getting some for yourself, thank you." He released the intercom and studied the man now sitting in front of him. Jack O'Neill was staring at the confidential files looking drained.  
  
George indicated them. "You know, Jack, you'll have to read them eventually."  
  
O'Neill's reply was flat: "Yes, sir."  
  
"Have you even re-read your own report?" George Hammond knew he had the most piercing blue eyes and was attempting to use them to their best advantage.  
  
Jack O'Neill was unfortunately impervious. "No, sir."  
  
"Have you been to visit her, Jack?" George was not a man to give up easily.  
  
Jack's mouth twitched. "No, sir, I thought it best that she be with her family."  
  
The General drummed his fingers lightly on his desk. "I spoke to Janet Fraiser this morning. It seems that Sam is doing a bit better physically, but Joe is having a hard time dealing with it. He can't cope with the fact that she chose to go off-world when she knew that she was pregnant. He's accusing her of putting her career before their life together. He hasn't visited her for two days; Janet thinks it's serious." He stopped in response to Jack's upraised hand.  
  
"Sir, should you be telling me this? I mean, patient confidentiality and all." O'Neill was shifting in his seat.  
  
George waved him off. "Probably not, but Janet is concerned about Sam's mental state. The Tok'ra are asking for Jacob and Selmak to return to Nemtesh; the skirmishes between the system lords are escalating and they really need him back. If that happens, Sam will be on her own, as she has requested that her brother is not informed about all of this," he tapped the files. "Sam will be off the mission list for at least eight weeks. Until then, the SG-1 team members will be allocated leave and then temporarily reassigned until decisions can be made."  
  
Jack's quickly looked up. "Decisions?"  
  
Hammond nodded. "Yes, Jack, decisions. You've been running with a five- member team for a while. The rebel Jaffa are demanding - hell *need* - more of Teal'c's time, Daniel appears to be fine, Jonas – I need to talk to that boy-"  
  
Jack broke in, "Sir, you haven't spoken to me about this."  
  
"Jack, I'm speaking to you now." Hammond paused. "And then there's Sam Carter. Both of us have been dragging our heels over her progression. Just as I think she's more than ready for command, she'll think and respond like a scientist, not as an operator. Now that she's married, her priorities may be changing." The General held up his hand again to silence Jack as the man opened his mouth to protest. "Don't accuse me of misogyny – Sam and Joseph were obviously trying for a baby. When this is behind them, they may want to try again. Possibly, Sam will request an Earth–bound assignment."  
  
Jack studied his hands.  
  
The General continued. "And then there's you, Colonel J.J. O'Neill. What are we going to do with you?"  
  
Jack looked up, "Sir?"  
  
"Your future, Jack? Your next appraisal is due."  
  
Jack mumbled under his breath, "I hate those damn things."  
  
George let out a snort. "I know that. But they can be useful when it comes to investing in our fighting force."  
  
The response was silence.  
  
George cleared his throat. "Have a think about it, please, and talk to your team. They may be more help than you think."  
  
Jack stood up to go.  
  
"Jack, I need a favor from you. Could you go over to the hospital and see Sam for me? I really need to finish this – tell her I'll come by tomorrow, that's a promise. Thank you." He pulled his laptop toward him and started to type. He steadfastly ignored Jack O'Neill, who was making fish impersonations by the door. A loud knock broke the impasse. Jack had his hand on the doorknob, so pulled the door sharply inwards. The General had to bite back a grin when he saw his aide's surprised expression. The young airman tentatively crossed the threshold, squeezed past Colonel O'Neill and deposited two steaming mugs of coffee on the General's desk.  
  
"Will there be anything else, sir?" he politely asked.  
  
"No, thank you, Andrew, that's all." George didn't look up from his keyboard.  
  
"Sir." The airman gave a respectful nod and sidled past the loitering Colonel.  
  
"Was there something else, Jack?" Hammond finally looked up straight into Jack O'Neill's guarded eyes.  
  
"No, sir." He was definitely dawdling. "I'll go then."  
  
"Yes, Colonel, dismissed." The complex man backed out of the door and closed it quietly behind him. When was that man ever going to wake up and smell the coffee? George smiled as he gazed at the mugs on his desk.  
  
His expression then dropped as he sighed heavily and pulled the files towards him once more. He re-opened the folder marked 'Carter, Maj. S.M.' and pulled out the forensic photographs taken after Sam's rescue.  
  
Samantha Carter was going to need all the help she could get.  
  
********  
  
Sam was toying half-heartedly with her fork. She nudged her potato further back on her plate and poked at the chicken. Sighing, she placed the fork on the plate and pushed the hospital table away. Gingerly shifting her position on the hard bed, she could see more of the view from the window. It was raining; a cold, unforgiving February. The bare tree branches swung gently in the wind. She watched them for a while, letting thoughts and emotions run through her mind.  
  
The sound of the door opening off to her left drew her attention back to the room. She smiled at Janet Fraiser, but then followed her gaze to the uneaten lunch and grinned ruefully. "I'll finish eating it if the kitchen finishes cooking it."  
  
Janet pursed her lips and peered at the plate. "I didn't think it was possible for them to ruin chicken, but they've surpassed themselves. I'll round up some jell-o for you."  
  
Sam rested her back carefully on the pillows. "Thank *you*."  
  
She watched as Janet pulled off the chart hanging from the end of the bed. Janet flicked through a few pages.  
  
Finally, the doctor spoke, "Dr. Warner says you had another restless night last night. How are you feeling now?" Janet raised her head to assess the patient's response.  
  
"Okay." Sam picked at the threads of the bandage secured around her left wrist.  
  
"Did you have a nap this morning?" Janet wasn't giving up.  
  
"No." Fine, Sam would make her work.  
  
"Joe hasn't called." Doctor-get-to-the-point-Fraiser.  
  
"I didn't ask if he had." Sam didn't want to hear his name so early in the day.  
  
Janet remained looking at her friend. "Anytime you want to talk-"  
  
"What is there to talk about?" Sam cut her off. "You were here. He storms in, calls me a selfish bitch, says I deserved to miscarry *his* baby, and then storms out again. Bye Joe." Sam lifted her arm to wave off her husband, reliving the exchange. She stared at the fading bruises on her limb and slowly lowered it. Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly. It was difficult to think. She felt Janet's cool fingers on her right wrist and peered through her lashes. Janet was counting the second hand around on her watch, taking her pulse. The doctor smiled kindly and released her grip, but held onto her hand.  
  
"Your wrists are healing well. I think that you won't need grafts on them at all. Is the pseudoskin still itching?" She motioned for Sam to lean forward in order to check her back. Sam slowly did as she was bid, as the gel-filled patches were tight and pulled if she moved quickly. She could feel Janet prodding and smoothing and was grateful for the doctor's arm to lean against. Gently, Janet laid her back and looked directly at her patient. "Sam, I need to check your perineal repair."  
  
Sam closed her eyes again. "Janet, can we do that later? I'm really tired." She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze averted.  
  
"You refused to let Dr. Warner check this morning. Are you refusing me?" Janet didn't sound annoyed, but Sam guessed that she might be.  
  
"No, but...later, I promise?" Sam was aware that she was pleading.  
  
"Sam, I really-"  
  
A knock on the door stopped Janet abruptly. The two women looked at each other.  
  
"Come in!" Janet called, their stares drawn back to the door.  
  
It opened to reveal Jack O'Neill dressed in an overcoat, shirt and tie, and carrying a large bunch of flowers.  
  
There was a stunned silence before Sam and Janet exclaimed together: "Sir!" "Colonel."  
  
Jack O'Neill looked himself up and down and grinned. "Yup, it's me."  
  
Janet Fraiser was beaming. "Colonel O'Neill, I wasn't aware that you were visiting today. What lovely flowers!"  
  
Sam was staring at her friend. What had gotten into her? She watched as Jack handed her the bunch.  
  
"I thought you would like them." The Colonel winked at Sam. Janet began to giggle. Sam groaned inwardly; Janet Fraiser was now giggling.  
  
Janet swung round and waved the bouquet at Sam, "I'll find a vase for you." With that, she was out of the room, closing the door behind her.  
  
Jack O'Neill stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled self-consciously. He edged closer to the bed.  
  
"So, Carter, how are you?" He began to fiddle with some loose change in his coat pocket.  
  
Sam hated when men did that. "Marvelous."  
  
"Oh." The Colonel's stock answer. He began to eye the room. "You've got your own room, that's nice."  
  
"Yeah, Janet was worried that I would go wacko and kick the crap out of the walls with my casts." Sam was beginning to enjoy this. "Either that or I would describe my D&C and perineal stitches in too great a detail for the average patient."  
  
The Colonel was now eyeing the door hopefully in the silence that followed. "Where's Jacob?"  
  
"He's gone back to his motel to freshen up." Sam paused. She could feel her left leg trembling under the blanket. "For God's sake, just go, will you? I know you hate hospitals and that you haven't got a clue what to say." She turned her head to look out of the window again. The silence continued as the daylight began to dim.  
  
The Colonel spoke again. "I know that you must be upset, and in pain, and everything."  
  
Sam was too tired for this. "That's right." She snapped her eyes shut, hoping he would take the hint.  
  
She could hear Colonel O'Neill swallowing. "Carter, this isn't you."  
  
Sam's eyes shot open, "Yeah, well, I'm tired of being fucking Pollyanna!"  
  
Jack paused and seemed to be musing over the absurdity of the statement. He started to smirk. Sam peeked up at Jack, a hot flush warming on her neck. A small laugh escaped her lips.  
  
He pulled at the bed sheet. "Actually, I saw you as more of an 'Anne of Green Gables' girl; you know the smart one always getting into scrapes?"  
  
Sam shook her head and shifted her back, which was smarting a little. "Okay, sir, you can't tell me you ever read those books."  
  
Jack smiled again and nodded as he fiddled with his coat buckle. "Nah, caught it on 'Hallmark'."  
  
Sam leaned back carefully. "Mmm, I thought so." She watched as the Colonel peered at her dinner plate.  
  
"Is that food?" he queried.  
  
Sam pulled her mouth down and pushed the table further away. "So they would have us believe. Janet's promised me Jell-o." Sam half turned to reposition the pillow only to find a pair of arms reaching to do it for her.  
  
As she settled back, he spoke again. "Next time I come, I'll bring contraband." He waggled his eyebrows.  
  
"Chocolate?" Sam's mood was beginning to lighten.  
  
"Absolutely!" Jack's grin didn't seem forced this time.  
  
She couldn't help it; a yawn escaped her. "Thanks."  
  
She was aware that the Colonel was watching her carefully. "I'd better go, you need some rest. I'll come by again, bring the rest of the three stooges if you like?"  
  
Sam nodded. She really was beginning to feel weary.  
  
The Colonel seemed to be inwardly debating something. He kept opening his mouth to speak, and then closing it again, fiddling with the bedsheet. After a few minutes of this, he spoke, quiet and serious, with a tone she rarely heard. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry. I... " his voice tailed off and the busy hand stilled.  
  
"Forgive me."  
  
Sam turned her head to give him her full attention for the first time since he had entered the room.  
  
"No, I won't forgive you." She could see him wince. "Because there's nothing to forgive. You had every right to put me on report for tardiness, and as for leaving me on the planet...I asked you to leave; you had no choice. The Jaffa would have killed you and the girl. As it is, we all survived. Well, except the baby. Perhaps that wasn't meant to be." Sam shifted her head back to watch the rain trace haphazard patterns on the windowpane. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jack O'Neill giving her the full force of *his* stare.  
  
Suddenly, she felt a warm hand gently secure around her left. She closed her eyes as she felt her tears welling and fading.  
  
She heard herself whisper. "I can't cry, yet."  
  
Jack's voice was equally as low. "It'll come, Sam. Don't force it."  
  
Sam nodded and looked down at their clasped hands. "I'm so tired."  
  
Jack snagged a chair with his leg and sat perched on the end, not letting go of her hand. "Close your eyes. I'll wait with you." His voice was soothing, mixed with the gentle pattering from outside.  
  
Sam could feel the pull of blissful sleep. "Thanks for the flowers," she managed to say.  
  
Just before she gave into the pull, she heard him reply, "Yasureyabetcha."  
  
********  
  
End of Part Two 


	3. Spring

TITLE: KALEIDOSCOPE – Part 3 Warnings, disclaimer, etc in part one  
  
****** SPRING  
  
******  
  
Doctor Janet Fraiser carefully signed her name to the release papers in front of her. She extracted the pink copy required for the patient's file and stood up from her desk, stretching a little as she did so. Walking over to the larger desk where the entire file was opened, she inserted the copy in its correct place. This particular file needed a desk to itself. The highly top secret medical records were one of only three that were not backed up by computer, and were usually held at the CMC itself in the secure vaults. Janet sighed as she smoothed the file's rumpled top corner and her fingers rested on the name: CARTER, S. She regretfully reflected that the size of Sam's file was beginning to rival Colonel O'Neill's. This was the fourth folder of Sam's in use – the others were all full. Her attention was sidetracked by a twittering sound coming through the open window of her office. A little wren was hopping about in the branches of a nearby tree collecting pieces of twigs. Nest-building. Janet smiled; spring was coming at last.  
  
There was a sharp rap at the door. Dr. Fraiser hastily closed the file and walked over to unlock the door.  
  
"Jim! The Wandering Warner returns! How was Iraq?" Janet greeted her colleague with an impromptu kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Hey, steady! Sallie will get jealous!" the genial doctor retorted with mock seriousness. "Iraq was...stressful. I can understand why the outgoing CMO was so pleased to see me. At least I felt that I was useful." He smiled humbly.  
  
Janet nodded. "Every general signal is all over the base before the ink's dry. If I see one more request for an Honor Guard detail at Peterson, well...." She paused. "Are you going back?"  
  
Dr. James Warner nodded slowly. "I have to talk to Sallie first; I promised that I would, but I'm volunteering for a longer posting. Six weeks wasn't enough to help. I know the practice of medicine is important anywhere, but sometimes, some things are more important than others."  
  
Janet linked an arm through her fellow colleague's. "I've just made some coffee, would you-"  
  
"YES please!" Jim laughed. "We're surviving on one MRE a day out there. And no decent coffee; talk about the D.T.'s." Gratefully accepting the mug that Janet poured for him, he wandered over the window, blowing on the hot liquid. He nodded towards the desk. "Is that Major Carter's file?"  
  
"Uh-uh," said Janet in return.  
  
"How is she?" He turned to look at Janet who was sitting at her desk, sipping at her drink.  
  
"She's being released today." Janet blew on her own coffee.  
  
Jim walked over to Janet's desk and sat in the chair next to it. "Yeah, I saw her name on the discharge board, but how *is* she?"  
  
Janet sighed and fingered the handle of her cup. "As well as could be expected. Her back's improving, her right ankle is fine and responding well to physio. The cast on her left has only just come off and it has lost quite a bit of dorsal flexion. It may be okay if she exercises it, but she's lost a lot of muscle tone as well."  
  
Jim nodded. "Eating behavior?"  
  
"Also improving. Her BMI is back up to 18." Janet hastily swallowed a gulp of coffee. "We had to redo her Fenton's last week; the perineal wound site became infected and caused some tissue degradation."  
  
Dr. Warner pulled his mouth down. "Oh, that's tough, after everything else. Did her husband come back?"  
  
Janet shook her head. "We tried everything: the families officer; General Hammond, and even I tried to talk to him. He slammed the door in my face."  
  
Jim took a small sip of coffee. "Spousal rejection – that's a complex issue. Still, if he won't talk, he's not AF, so...?" he held his palm out.  
  
"Yes, I know." Janet wrinkled her nose. "It is hard to know what to do for the best. One half of me wants to drag him here by the short and curlies and *force* him to talk to his wife, the other half wants me to leave him to rot. When I went 'round – he didn't seem like the man I know, albeit not very well. He had an odd look in his eye, notwithstanding the fact he was *not* pleased to see me." Janet chewed her lip. "There is so much more we could do to support Sam, but because of the 'need-to-know' of the Stargate program, our resources are limited. At least the stress counseling for the other teams is going well."  
  
"What does McKenzie say about Major Carter?" Jim rested his coffee mug on a coaster emblazoned with the Pfizer logo.  
  
"R.T.S." Janet said bluntly. "No denial; she maintains that she was unconscious when the possible sexual attack occurred. Certainly the head injuries bear this out, but as you know, no semen was present. Without Sam's recollection of what happened, it's hard to get her to talk about the rape," she shrugged before continuing, "and she wasn't very co-operative when Mac suggested hypnosis. She's very detached and controlled; quite rational about it all."  
  
"That's Sam, rationalizing everything. But Rape Trauma Syndrome?" Jim shook his head. "She's going to need some help. Any other symptoms?"  
  
"Her Jendrassik's responses are terrible, and she has the worst exaggerated startle reflex I've ever seen." Janet could feel her emotions building.  
  
Jim smiled at her kindly. "I am one-hundred-percent sure that you are doing your best."  
  
Janet smiled back. "I hope so, but I feel if Sam is really going to get over this and live her life again, it is going to take more than just me telling her to give it time." She sighed.  
  
Jim nodded again. "Is she going *home*, home?"  
  
Janet straightened her back. "Yes; that's what she wanted. I guess since General Carter was recalled, she's got nowhere else." She glanced at her watch. "Daniel should be picking her up now."  
  
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with her?"  
  
Janet stood up and rubbed her neck. "I'm assisting in an angioplasty this afternoon, and I think Sam has had enough of people molly-coddling her for just now."  
  
Jim drained his coffee. "Are you sure?"  
  
Janet turned to look at him, and then out of the window. "No."  
  
********  
  
Daniel pushed open the door to the hospital room that had been Sam Carter's home for the last eight weeks. "Hey, Sam, how are you doing today?" He parked the wheelchair he was pushing off to one side.  
  
Sam was sitting on a plastic visitors chair by her vacated bed and smiled back, but her eyes were dull. Daniel was used to this response. He marched straight over and kissed her on the cheek. Ignoring the fact that she visibly stiffened, he tugged playfully at her oversized sweatshirt.  
  
"You definitely fill those jogging sweats better than me," he grinned, trying to sound brighter than he felt.  
  
Sam looked down and let out a small laugh. "At least they're not Janet's. Think: half-mast!"  
  
Daniel laughed back in what he hoped was not an overly forced manner. He was absolutely relieved to achieve more than a monosyllabic response from his friend.  
  
He grabbed the wheelchair handles "Ready to go?" He asked cheerfully, shouldering a small overnight bag with which Janet had brought the change of clothes for Sam.  
  
She nodded. "Yup." Holding out her right arm, Daniel steadied her as she rose awkwardly from the seat. She was gripping a short-armed crutch in her left hand so hard that her knuckles were white. Straightening up, she shot Daniel a quick nod. "Let's go," she said in a determined tone.  
  
Daniel pushed the chair at an angle, "Okay, sit down, then-"he began.  
  
"Daniel, I have had enough of wheelchairs, IV's and overheated rooms to last me a lifetime; get me the hell out of here." Sam tightened her grip around his arm and looked purposefully toward the door.  
  
Daniel smiled. "You've been spending way too much time around Jack O'Neill. He's sorry he's not here, by the way; he'll be back from the Pentagon tomorrow."  
  
Sam nodded, gathering her strength. "I know; he called me. Let's go," she repeated, a little more gently.  
  
"Okay, but in the chair. Those RN's are barracudas when it comes to procedure."  
  
Sam clenched her jaw, but complied, hitching herself awkwardly into the seat. "All right, but we leave this at the exit."  
  
Daniel was surprised; he was expecting more of a fight. "Deal," he said quietly, pushing the chair out of the room.  
  
After ditching the wheelchair, Sam's halting, gawky progress across the sidewalk into his Honda was heartbreaking for Daniel. The Sam Carter he knew was strong and vibrant, brilliant and beautiful. The shuffling woman by his side was thin, tired and clumsy. Her hair, which was normally nattily styled, was dull and hanging limply over her face. Janet brought in some of his own clothes for her, including a pair of sneakers that were too small for him. Unfortunately, his wardrobe didn't extend as far as a brassiere, and he was acutely aware that she wasn't wearing one. She looked pathetic. Daniel could think of no other word. He thanked whatever god was looking after him today that Jack O'Neill was not here to see this. The Colonel was very proud of his second in command and used every opportunity to let her shine. Daniel knew she was an excellent shot, both with a handgun and an SMG. Right now, she didn't look like she could lift a weapon, much less fire it.  
  
By the time she was buckled in, Sam was out of breath and trying to hide that her ankle was bothering her. He stowed the bag and her crutch on the back seat, and drove out of the hospital parking lot with relief.  
  
The drive to Sam and Joe's house in Colorado Springs was completed in near silence. Daniel brought her quickly up to date with Teal'c's progress in mobilizing rebel Jaffa, which was going well. He handed her a note from Jonas, which she read quietly. After carefully folding it, she put it in her pants pocket without revealing the contents. Jonas had taken the decision to return to his home world of Kelowna. It was not a conclusion that he had come to lightly, even though his birth planet asked for his return. The earnest young man had spoken at length with all of SG-1 and General Hammond. Jonas had been deeply affected by Sam's experiences, and the carnage that Mot had wrecked on PX-253. He visited Sam several times before his departure, although neither would say what was discussed. Before he left, he asked Rebecca Rush to go with him, and she agreed, although she was still serving out her notice in the infirmary. Daniel suspected that Sam encouraged Jonas to do what he felt was right, and gave the young lovers a push in the right direction. That was so Sam. She loved to see people happy. Everyone happy. Except herself.  
  
Daniel pulled up on the driveway to 'Chez Faxon' and blew out a breath. "Sam, you didn't tell me that you lived in a hotel!" The place was huge, a replica of a colonial mansion.  
  
Sam unbuckled her seatbelt and regarded the house through the car window. "Well, it's not mine; it belongs to Joe's family. I sold most of my stuff when Joe and I were married. There are only a few small bits left that still belong to me...." her voice trailed off. "Sorry, Daniel, I should have invited you and the others over, for a meal, or something."  
  
"Or something." Daniel smiled. He unbuckled his own belt. "Come on, let's get you settled."  
  
He helped Sam out of the car, noticing her hand trembling a little as she steadied herself against the passenger door. Her progress up the portico steps was halting. She stood before the large front door, unable to go any further.  
  
Daniel stepped forward. "I'm here with you, Sam, come on," he motioned toward the door.  
  
Sam stared at it. "I can't."  
  
He wasn't going to give up. "Yes, you can. You've come this far."  
  
Sam smiled at him pityingly. "No, I can't; I don't have my keys with me."  
  
Daniel grinned. "Ah. Let's try the bell, shall we?" He tugged an ornate pull at the side of the door and a faint ringing was heard from within. Sam's grip tightened on his arm, so he returned the pressure reassuringly. The sound of the door being unlocked could be heard and the door swung open. A young woman wearing a black dress with a white apron stood before them.  
  
"Yes, may I help you?" She inquired politely.  
  
Daniel cleared his throat. "Err, is Mr. Faxon at home?" He glanced sideways at Sam, who obviously had no clue as to the woman's identity.  
  
"Mr. Faxon is at work, sir." She looked nervously between the two of them.  
  
Daniel heard Sam take a deep breath. "That's okay, it isn't necessary that he's here." She began to cross the threshold, causing the maid to take a step back.  
  
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you can't wait here." The girl looked like she was going to faint.  
  
Sam turned toward her. "Hi, excuse me, what's your name?" She asked.  
  
The maid gulped. "Karen, ma'am."  
  
"May I ask, Karen, who employed you?" Sam stared at her with a fixed smile.  
  
Daniel grinned inwardly as he glimpsed the inner sparkle that was Sam.  
  
"Mrs. Faxon, ma'am." The maid was holding out under scrutiny; she must be expensive.  
  
"Well, Karen, *I'm* Mrs. Faxon, junior, so you can relax. I'm going to my room now, but I would love some tea. Any chance of a cuppa?" Sam was still smiling as she delivered the last sentence in an odd accent. Daniel looked away to hide the smirk that was beginning to form on his lips.  
  
Sam limped past her and made her way to the stairs. Daniel pointed to Sam and addressed the maid. "I'm with her, and I prefer coffee, if that's no trouble?" The girl nodded, her mouth gaping slightly. "Jolly good," he quipped in what he hoped was a British upper class accent and turned to follow his friend.  
  
By the time Sam got to the top of the sweeping staircase she was quite out of breath. She looked at Daniel. "I think the treadmill and I are going to become close friends in the next few weeks," she grinned. Daniel smiled back and stuck out his elbow, proffering support, which she accepted appreciatively.  
  
"May I escort you to your bedroom, ma'am?" he drawled.  
  
Sam gave out a small laugh and drawled back, "Why, shurre, Master Daniel."  
  
Daniel looked up and down. "That shurre is fine, Miss Samantha, but which way is it?"  
  
Sam was still grinning as she indicated a large, closed doorway off to the left. As Daniel helped her closer to the door, she slipped her arm out of his and reached to turn the handle. She looked at him and he nodded; this was something she must do for herself. He pointed to a floral patterned chaise longue, which was positioned on the wide landing. "I'll wait over there." Within a few minutes, he heard Sam moving about within the room and resisted the urge to go and help her. He heard the shower running and then sounds of drawers being opened and closed – she must be getting dressed. He was listening to the drone of a hairdryer as the maid appeared with a tray of tea and coffee, which Daniel accepted with thanks. He watched her scuttle back down the stairs laughing to himself, before taking the tray over to the door, and tentatively knocking.  
  
He heard Sam's voice clearly: "Come in, Daniel, it's not locked." Pushing the door open with his foot, he poked his head round the frame. Sam was standing before a full-length rococo mirror wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray singlet, which she was covering with a matching cardigan. Just before she swung the top around her back, Daniel glimpsed faint pink scars spoiling her creamy skin. The dark clothes were making her look even thinner. The vast, tastefully furnished room appeared to be dwarfing her slight form, even though she was nearly as tall as he was. She caught him staring in the mirror and their eyes met.  
  
Daniel began, "Sam, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"  
  
"It's all right, Daniel, I know I look a sight." Sam interrupted. She turned back to the mirror. "I must get my hair cut." She swept up her shoulder length hair into a makeshift bun with her hands. He noticed something glinting on her left hand; she was wearing her wedding ring set again. Daniel closed his eyes. This was going to be hard.  
  
Abruptly, they heard the sound of loud talking coming from the ground floor. Sam let out a breath and released her hair, smoothing it down. She straightened her cardigan and turned to face the door. Daniel was suddenly aware he was still carrying the tray with the drinks. He began to glance around the room to find a surface to rest the load, when a designer-suited Joe Faxon pushed the bedroom door open.  
  
Husband and wife regarded each other silently across the vast expanse of expensive carpet.  
  
Daniel felt an overwhelming urge to be elsewhere, anywhere, at this moment.  
  
Faxon spoke. "What the hell are you doing here?" Daniel snuck a peek at Sam who was still standing statue-like. He then realized that Joe Faxon was staring at *him*.  
  
Daniel cleared his throat. "I, err. I've brought Sam home. Um...tea?" He asked, jiggling the tray.  
  
Faxon curled his mouth up in a condescending expression, and pointedly turned without acknowledging Daniel any further.  
  
Sam sucked in a breath, "Joe, we need to talk."  
  
Faxon crossed his arms in front of him. "I think we said all we needed to say in the hospital. But then *Samantha*, it's all about what you *want*, isn't it? You are everyone's angel until you don't get *your* way. It doesn't matter about your husband or your child, just so long as you are with your precious, all-singing, all-dancing, SG-1."  
  
Sam closed her eyes, as if expecting the bitter diatribe. She took in another measured breath and slowly opened her eyes. "Joe, please, losing our baby was the last thing in the world that I *wanted*. You've got to believe me."  
  
Joe laughed bitterly and took a few steps toward Sam. Daniel was very uncomfortable with the look in Faxon's eye. He hastily put the tray down on the bed and took a few steps forward himself.  
  
"Sorry, what *must* I do, *Mrs.* Faxon?" Joe was standing so close to Sam's face, his breath was moving her hair. "Are you giving orders *again*?"  
  
Sam 's face crumpled. "Joe, please..." she repeated.  
  
Joe held his hand up. "DON'T tell me what to believe. I don't know what I believe anymore. Do you know how difficult you've made things for me? Everything is ruined. You had to go and meddle with a situation that didn't concern you. Your injuries are regrettable, but you brought them on yourself."  
  
Daniel couldn't believe he was hearing this. Veins were standing out on Faxon's neck as he glared at Sam. She was taking it; Daniel was horrified. "Sam?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
"Stay out of this, Mr. Magoo, "Faxon hissed.  
  
Daniel raised a finger. "Ah, no, sorry. No can do." He turned to his white-faced, vulnerable friend. "Sam, you don't have to listen to him. Get your things."  
  
Sam shook her head. "No, Daniel, thank you. Joe and I need to work this out." Daniel screwed up his forehead in exasperation at Sam's misplaced loyalty.  
  
Joe laughed oddly. As the grin faded, he again moved in close to Sam's face. "Do you honestly think that you are welcome here? I don't think so. I might *catch* something!"  
  
Daniel was pushed over the edge. He covered the last remaining steps to Faxon and swung his right fist as hard as he could into the man's face. He felt and heard a crack as his fist connected with something solid. He was wringing his smarting hand as Joe Faxon doubled over, his hands over his nose.  
  
"You bastard!" Faxon yelled, thickly.  
  
Sam was gawking at the man on the floor and then looked up at Daniel, her lips parted.  
  
Daniel blew on his stinging knuckles and reached out with his left arm. "Sam, get your stuff, let's get the hell out of here."  
  
Sam seemed to shake herself from a daze, and hobbled hurriedly over to the huge closet to wrench her leather jacket off a hanger. She pulled out some underwear and hastily shoved it into the overnight bag that was still sitting on the bed. As Sam began to do up the zipper, she seemed to remember something. Skirting the man that was now sitting up on the floor, clutching a hanky to his nose, she went over to her dresser. Daniel watched her open a jewelry box and quickly take something from the top tray. He grabbed her bag and her crutch, and saw that she snatched up a couple of silver-framed photographs before heading for the door.  
  
Without looking back, Sam gratefully swapped the photos for Daniel's arm, limped down the stairs and out of the house that had once been her home.  
  
Daniel drove quickly out of the Faxon's gateway, saying nothing for several minutes. He eventually pulled up at a gas station, switched off the engine and turned to appraise his friend.  
  
She carefully touched his hand. "I hope that's not too bad. I'm a walking pharmacy if you need pain killers."  
  
Daniel flexed his reddened knuckles. "Nah, s'okay."  
  
Sam smiled hesitantly. "My hero."  
  
Daniel grinned back. "Supergeek; that's me." He stared at the broken skin. "It hurts more than on TV."  
  
"I know." Sam smiled again, but her eyes betrayed her unhappiness and anxiety.  
  
Daniel covered her pale hand with his own bloodied one. "Its gonna be okay, you know."  
  
Sam's mouth turned down. "Are you sure?"  
  
Daniel blew out a noisy breath. He squinted at her sideways. "Ah, no, its what you call a regular empty promise."  
  
Sam's head jerked around to face him and she laughed nervously. He turned her hand over; she was shielding something in her fist. She looked into his eyes and gradually opened her clenched fingers. A small gold cross and chain were nestled in her palm. "Is this what you took from your jewelry box? He asked gently.  
  
She nodded. "It was my Mom's," she released a shaky breath.  
  
Without a word, he took the necklace from her and unfastened the dainty clasp. Swinging it over Sam's head, he refastened the hook and carefully teased her hair out from under the chain.  
  
Turning to gaze out of the window again, she considered: "Where do I go now?"  
  
Daniel reached over and toyed with a strand of hair that was flipping upwards from her shoulder. He noticed that she still flinched a little. "Come and stay with us." The request was simple. "At least until you get a place of your own."  
  
Sam shook her head. "Janet's house is full up already. What would she say if one more stray turned up? Anyway, I hate sleeping on couches."  
  
Daniel continued to fiddle with her hair. "You'd have a room to yourself. I'm not sleeping in the spare room anymore."  
  
As realization dawned, Sam turned to look at her friend and smiled broadly, the first for several weeks. "Since when?"  
  
"Since that night we got you back," he said slowly. "We both needed something; comfort, solace, call it what you will."  
  
Sam nodded and her eyes began to glisten.  
  
"Sam, are you okay with this? Janet and I are still finding our feet in this relationship and we value your approval. She didn't say anything to you because-"  
  
Sam reached to take his hand. "Daniel, for goodness sake, you don't need my approval. I'm very happy for you both. But know one thing. Don't wait. Don't hesitate. If you've got something good, hang on to it with all your strength." She touched the side of his face gently. "Carpe diem."  
  
Daniel reached up to cover her hand with his own again. "Hey, I thought I was the linguist," he said playfully. "But maybe I *will* 'Seize the Day'." He gave her hand a squeeze.  
  
Taking in her eyes for one lingering moment, he turned to fire up the ignition. "Let's go home," he said.  
  
********  
  
Jack adjusted his sunglasses as he got out of his SUV; it really was quite sunny for April. He reached back over to the passenger seat and retrieved a bunch of flowers and a small box of chocolates. He bought them at a small gift shop-come-flower stall that he patronized quite a bit lately. It was becoming a ritual. Every time he came to see Sam, he brought flowers. Now that she was out of hospital, he saw no reason to break the habit, since they made her smile. And he so wanted to see her smile.  
  
Passing Daniel's unwashed Honda, he walked up the path to Janet's house and bounded up the porch steps. He rapped on the doorframe with a flourish and began to open the screen as Janet opened the inner door.  
  
"Good Morning, Jack." She had stopped calling him 'Colonel' completely these last few weeks, except in formal situations on base. Some things went beyond titles. He leaned right down and planted a loud smacking kiss on her cheek.  
  
Daniel's voice was heard from the kitchen: "Paws off, O'Neill!"  
  
Janet broke into giggles as Jack stood back, feeling pleased with himself. "Just testing," he smirked and looked about. "Where's Cass?" he inquired.  
  
Janet turned to follow Daniel into the kitchen. "She's on vacation in San Francisco, staying with my brother and his wife. She kept going on and on about 'Frisco broadening her horizons and I said if she saved up half her fare, I would pay the rest. Hey!" Janet playfully swatted a smirking Daniel.  
  
"Jan, you're such a schmuck! You paid it all. She has you wrapped around her little finger!" Daniel was shaking his head. He twirled a tea towel around with an evil glint in his eye. Quickly, he swung the towel over Janet's head and used the makeshift lasso to pull her closer.  
  
Jack groaned as he laid his goodies on the cluttered kitchen table. "Oh, you're not gonna do the kissing thing again, are you? If you're doing the kissing thing, I'm outta here."  
  
The lovers broke apart, smiling broadly. Jack noted a more serious, distracted look come over Janet's face as she watched Daniel snag the coffee pot from the hotplate. She toyed with the tea towel that was now slung over her shoulder. "It was probably for the best. Cassie has found it hard to accept what has happened. I keep forgetting how young she is."  
  
Daniel handed Jack a cup of coffee and said quietly: "No you haven't. And Sam has only been here less than a week. We'll get there."  
  
Jack waved at Daniel's right hand with his cup. "That's healing well, must be all that one-to-one nursing." He arched his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Janet looked up from the sink, dishcloth in hand. "Oh, don't encourage him. I'm expecting a subpoena any day because it sounds like he broke Faxon's nose."  
  
Jack stared off into the middle distance. He recalled the private conversation that he and Daniel exchanged the night Daniel brought Sam to live at the Fraiser house. "Well, maybe it's just as well that Danny-boy was there, because if Faxon had made *that* comment in front of me, I would have broke the sonofabitch's neck."  
  
Daniel and Janet exchanged glances.  
  
Jack shook himself and waved between the two of them. "So, what does Sam think of you two, you know..." he gestured again, "being *together*?" His tone was a little mocking, but he was aware that his grin betrayed his delight for the two friends.  
  
Janet smiled, grateful for the sudden change in mood. "She's thrilled, and she had a good laugh about my name if we ever got married."  
  
Jack put on a 'no clue' expression, although secretly enjoyed the strange, longing look that came over Daniel Jackson's face as he regarded the back of Janet's head.  
  
Daniel nodded away, with a small smile playing on his lips. "Jack, I know that you know who Janet Jackson is, so don't start with the 'poor old man' game."  
  
Jack looked back innocently. "Do not," he clipped.  
  
"Do too," Daniel retorted.  
  
Jack opened his mouth to be stopped by Janet holding her arms out: "Don't start, the pair of you."  
  
Jack smirked and took a long swallow of coffee. He breathed out slowly. "How is she today?"  
  
Janet craned her neck over the sink to peer out of the window. "Sitting on the deck again. She's doing okay, although she could use more exercise. It's not like her to shirk it."  
  
Jack drained his cup and placed it in the sink. "She has no emotional energy left; it's taking everything she has just to stay awake." He raised his eyebrows at Janet's surprised expression and pursed his mouth into a knowing grimace.  
  
As he picked up the flowers and chocolates, he was aware of Daniel enfolding Janet's shoulders in his arms.  
  
"I'll talk to her," he said firmly.  
  
********  
  
Sam jerked her head around at the sound of the French doors being opened. She straightened a little at the sight of the person stepping through, bearing flowers.  
  
"Sir!" she said with a smile. She couldn't help it; she was genuinely pleased to see him. His irregular visits were the highlight of her monotonous hospital-bound days. She was thankful for him treating her quite normally after that first day, but she still appreciated the small gifts of flowers, chocolates and ice cream. Sam was conscious that his schedule was being taken up with numerous issues, and she was also aware of the fact that he seemed to spend a great deal of his precious downtime with her. Daniel was a frequent visitor; although Sam mused that she now knew he had an ulterior motive for coming out as far as the other side of Colorado Springs. She had seen Teal'c once since her rescue. He was spending virtually all of his time off world. Reading between the lines, Sam could see that he was highly motivated in his charge to organize the rebel Jaffa. Revealing she was having trouble concentrating, he tried to help her meditate. Although the introspection hadn't helped, she appreciated the company, and enjoyed the display of candlelight that stressed out the nurses so much.  
  
"Yo, Carter," grinned the Colonel. "Haven't I said that it's 'Jack'? Take a chill-pill."  
  
Sam shyly smiled back. "But you keep calling me 'Carter'."  
  
Jack plunked himself down on a neighboring patio chair. "Yeah, well," he gestured wildly, "that's just a nickname, sorta."  
  
Sam gazed at her CO indulgently. "We can't call each other 'Jack and Sam' when..." her voice trailed off. She resorted to staring at the azalea bush that she had been looking at all morning. She mentally finished the sentence: 'When I'm back at work'. Would she ever go back? Would she ever be able to go back?  
  
She heard Jack sniff. "You *will* come back, Carter, I know you will."  
  
Sam shook her head incredulously. He knew what she was thinking again! She sighed. "I wish I had your confidence, sir."  
  
Jack cleared his throat. "You will. But Sam, you need to try a bit harder now."  
  
Sam turned to look at him, smirking a little. "I can't believe *you* just said that to *me*."  
  
Jack looked like there was something in his eye; he rubbed it vigorously with his forefinger. "Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything."  
  
A silence ensued. Sam stretched her left leg a little, which was beginning to cramp.  
  
Jack coughed again. "Sam, I've got an idea."  
  
Sam smiled hesitantly, and turned slowly to face him. "You're kidding."  
  
Jack shot her an amused glance, and there followed an exchange of warm looks.  
  
The Colonel leaned forward in his seat, and then seemed to realize what he was holding. "Oh, these are for you, by the way," he announced, placing the flowers and chocolates on the patio table.  
  
"Are you sure they're not for Janet?" Sam teased. Jack colored a little, which amused her immensely.  
  
"Ah, no. She's got her own supplier now," jibed her CO. Pausing, he added, "I've got a proposal for you." He squirmed under her widened-eyed gaze, but continued valiantly. "I think you need to get away. I think you need some fresh air and a change of scenery. I'm thinking rustic comfort, natural beauty, sky blue waters, fishing?"  
  
Sam was aware her eyes were bulging. "Are you talking about your cabin in Minnesota, sir?"  
  
Jack nodded earnestly. "Yes, I am."  
  
"Do you mean with...you?" Sam asked cautiously, she sat forward a little.  
  
Jack smiled slightly and looked away. He said quietly, "Well, I thought perhaps Daniel and Janet, but I haven't said anything to them yet."  
  
Sam rested her back against the chair. "Janet, yes, of course." Of course it wouldn't be with him! She began to fiddle with her necklace. "I...I'm not sure. I mean, thank you. That's very generous of you."  
  
"Oh, don't be silly, Carter. You'd be doing me a favor. I don't get to visit it as much as I'd like. It needs to be used." Jack sat back on his own chair, with his legs spread wide, appearing to cultivate an air of nonchalance. He was looking at her. Sam found that her heart was pounding.  
  
"I'm not sure," she repeated. Her head was beginning to swim. What was wrong with her?  
  
Jack chewed his lip. "Look, I'm going to talk to Doc Fraiser. In my opinion, for whatever the hell it's worth, I think you would benefit from getting away." With that, he abruptly rose from his seat and disappeared through the patio doors.  
  
Sam found she was breathing rather quickly. The Colonel's cabin! She didn't really know about part of him. Or did she? Sam looked intently upon the flowers resting on the table. The man brought her flowers. Not expensive, fancy flowers, color coordinated and arranged by a professional florist. No, he brought bunches of brightly colored wildflowers, undoubtedly chosen by him and re-wrapped with scotch tape. Could this be the Jack O'Neill she was getting to know these last seven weeks? These last seven years? Unsophisticated and a little untamed, but with a familiar, comfortable charm?  
  
Sam closed her eyes, trying to quell her flapping thoughts. He had asked her to go to Minnesota before, and the temptation to say yes was immense. She knew that the invitation had always been graciously given under the strict rules which bound their relationship, but she *was* curious.  
  
"Sam?" Janet was speaking to her.  
  
Her eyes shot open. "Sorry, I was miles away!" She exclaimed.  
  
Janet smiled, "Would that be as far as Northern Minnesota?"  
  
Sam bit her lip. "He told you."  
  
Janet shook her head slightly. "No, he asked me what I thought. And I think it's just what you need. I've got so much annual leave left, I don't know what to do with it all, so seven-to-ten days in a peaceful cabin sounds like just what we *both* need."  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
Jack's voice was heard from the house. "Fraiser, was that a yes?"  
  
Janet looked at Sam questioningly. "Well?"  
  
"Won't you have to put a leave pass in?" Sam said lamely. Why was she stalling?  
  
Again, the Colonel's voice was heard from the house. "Leave that to me, Carter."  
  
Janet opened her mouth in exasperation, but then laughed softly, shaking her head. "He won't take 'no' for an answer; you know how stubborn he is."  
  
Sam picked at the sweatshirt of Daniel's that she was wearing. "I haven't got any clothes." Actually, she was distinctly warming to the idea.  
  
"Sam, you'll only need a couple of pairs of jeans and a few tops. Two sweaters, max. You can borrow them from Daniel. He can't join us until next weekend, by the way; he's got that conference. Anyway, it's Minnesota, not New York." Janet was not giving up.  
  
Sam nodded. "Okay, let's do it."  
  
Janet breathed out and smiled. "Cool."  
  
Within an hour, the leave was arranged, and Janet was in the cellar looking for luggage to take. Daniel went to the store for supplies and the Colonel was back at home to prepare his SUV for the journey. He would be going with them and staying the first night. Apparently, the cabin was difficult to find. Additionally, it had it's own water supply and temperamental oil- fuelled generator that would have to be explained. There was also the added bonus of Jack being able to share the driving with Janet.  
  
As she tried to relax on the deck, Sam listened to her friend rummaging about getting ready. There were butterflies in her stomach; she was finally going to the Colonel's cabin.  
  
After seven years and at least four politely refused invitations, she was finally going to Jack's cabin.  
  
Tomorrow.  
  
********  
  
The dark haired man stood glaring out of the large bay window at the soft spring rain. It was late and the only illumination was from the outside lights and the glowing fireplace. He swirled the brandy around in the glass he was holding, and then lifted the crystal to his lips to drain the amber liquid. He needed another. He felt terrible; his head was pounding again. Everything was going wrong, and he was trying so hard. He pulled his left suit sleeve up to check his Rolex. They would be here again soon, and he wasn't ready. They would say he wasn't achieving his targets, but he really was doing his best. If only his head would stop hurting. Why didn't they leave him alone? *They* made his head ache, he was sure of it now. But whom could he tell? He could have told the kind blonde lady. She would have known what to do. She always knew what to do. Where was she? He wanted her back. Instead he unstoppered the brandy decanter and sloshed some liquor into the glass again.  
  
He moved across the room to sit at his antique desk and regarded the array of photographs displayed to one side. He had forgotten who some of these people were; he would have to check. He kept looking at the one of himself and the blonde lady. She was wearing a pretty white dress and jewelry in her hair. She was smiling, so happy. He was standing next to her, wearing a funny tall hat and smiling too. A big smile. Had he been happy too? His head hurt again.  
  
They would be here again soon.  
  
********  
  
The two-day journey to Minnesota passed uneventfully. They made frequent stops for rests, the overnight motel was comfortable and the atmosphere between the three friends was light. Sam could feel some of the shadows lifting, as the scenery began to change into that which the Colonel described so well. He was right about the cabin being difficult to find. Janet began to joke about leaving a trail of breadcrumbs along the closely wooded trails, and expressed relief that it would be Jack who would be picking them up again, as she would surely get lost.  
  
As they rounded yet another identical bend, the Colonel teased: "I'm sure your Daniel-in-shining-armor would come and rescue you."  
  
Janet snorted. "Huh! He gets lost going to his office!"  
  
Sam was listening to their banter most of the time. It didn't feel like she was being anti-social, but more that she was unwinding. It amused her that much of the area was covered with forests. After all the Colonel's blustering about too many off-world trees, it was telling that the place he loved the most was a tree lover's paradise.  
  
On the afternoon of the second day, the SUV finally rounded a bend in the track, to reveal an understated wooden cabin nestling by a tree-lined lake. Through a break in the trees, rolling green hills and another small lake could be seen in the distance.  
  
Janet practically jumped out before the vehicle halted, exclaiming her pleasure at the breathtaking beauty of the scene. Jack was grinning widely as he got out from behind the driver's seat, obviously taking pleasure that someone loved it as much as he did. He turned to check on Sam's reaction. She smiled at him through the bug-smeared windshield, suddenly nervous. He came back to the truck and held the door open for her. He held out his hand. "Coming, Carter? Or are you sleeping in the truck?"  
  
She scooted awkwardly along the seat with her still-tender perineum and stiff ankle.  
  
She was here, finally *here*.  
  
Tentatively, she grasped his strong hands and accepted his assistance to get down from the vehicle safely. He reached in the back to retrieve her crutch, but she shook her head.  
  
"No, thank you, sir, it's about time I tried to get along without it." He took in her eyes for one long moment and then grinned.  
  
"You mean to say you made me bring the damn thing all this way, and you're not gonna use it?" But Sam knew his irritation was false, and he couldn't stop smiling.  
  
Janet was hopping about at the top of the cabin's steps. The Colonel laughed, "Just go in, Janet, it's not locked."  
  
As he grabbed some bags from the back, Sam made her way up the steps. "Is that wise? Not locking it, I mean?" She queried.  
  
Jack shrugged. "Well, if the bad guys wanted to bust the door down, what's stopping them? There's nothing worth lifting, anyway."  
  
As Sam crossed the threshold, she took in a deep breath. It was a dream, an imagination that often bodied forth when she was falling over into sleep. Jack's cabin. The real-life impression was indeed one of 'rustic charm', but no chintz or falseness. What little furniture there was, was old and clean and rubbed with use. The floors were wooden, a deep honey pine, proudly displaying the rich patina of the years gone by. The windows were small, but the walls were lined with shelves packed with books giving vitality to the large room that she walked into. A fireplace dominated the north-facing wall, and a small kitchen could be seen set off to one side. A hallway next to that indicated the presence of the bedrooms at the back. Sam slowly walked over to the nearest window. It afforded a view over the lake where the afternoon sunlight was beginning to slant through the trees. Dragonflies were dancing over the water and birdsong could be heard clearly.  
  
She turned. "It's...it's beautiful." And it was, it truly was.  
  
Jack stepped closer to the window, peering over her shoulder. He straightened and treated her to a warm smile. "I knew you would like it."  
  
The sound of Janet squeaking brought Sam back to Earth. "Jack, this is wonderful, does it belong to you?" She was examining a large picture on the wall near the kitchen.  
  
The Colonel walked over, nodding. "Actually, my Great-Grandmother Elisabeth made it."  
  
As Sam slowly moved closer, she could see that Janet was admiring a large sampler, expertly stitched in shades of red and white. There was a phrase embroidered in the center, surrounded by dancing girls and boys. A name was underneath. Sam tried to get her tongue around the foreign words:  
  
"Hvor Finner vel Hjertet sin Sagligste Ro? Elisabeth Ingqvist 1887." She was silent for a moment. "It's lovely, what does it mean?" she turned again to look at Jack who was grinning as he regarded his heirloom.  
  
He turned to face her. "Where does the Heart find its most Blessed Peace?"  
  
Sam held his eyes for a moment, before nodding slowly.  
  
Before she could comment, Janet pointed to the name. "Ingqvist? What is that? Swedish?"  
  
Jack shook his head. "Norwegian. My Great Grandparents settled here in the late 1800's. In fact, Scandinavian pioneers settled much of this land, but the life was hard and many migrated to the cities, St. Paul...Minneapolis, of course."  
  
Janet regarded him with amusement. "Okay, I'll buy that. But: 'O'Neill'?"  
  
Jack smirked. "That was from my father's side – they were from County Cork. I *do* have a father you know, despite what the junior SF's say about me."  
  
Janet snorted an appreciative giggle.  
  
Jack took a breath. "I need to show you how to fire up the generator, and then I think we should get the gear in from the car and think about some dinner before it gets dark."  
  
Janet nodded. "Sure, lead the way. Sam, why don't you have a rest? That overstuffed sofa looks like heaven."  
  
Sam considered the sofa; it did look inviting. "No, I've been sitting too long. I'll make a start on unpacking the food." She smiled at her friends. "I'm fine, honestly. I'm fine."  
  
Jack and Janet exchanged looks. Janet spoke.  
  
"We know you are, Sam. We know you are."  
  
********  
  
Jack awoke to the sound of screaming. Abruptly, he fell off the sofa and scrambled out of his sleeping bag, pushing down sleep-filled confusion. There was a dull light coming from the windows to indicate very early dawn. He lunged into his backpack for the 9mm that he had brought with him. Snapping off the safety, and slamming a slug into the chamber, he made toward the noise – it was Sam that was screaming. Over her terror and desperation, he could hear his own blood pounding in his ears. Janet's door flew open, flooding the hallway with light, causing him to squint.  
  
She rushed into the main bedroom, crying out, "Sam, it's all right. It's okay!" She disappeared through the doorway and flicked the lights on, with Jack bringing up the rear. Sam was kneeling on all fours in a corner, babbling something incoherent. Janet knelt beside her at arm's length. "Sam, can you hear me? Wake up for me, honey!"  
  
There was no response. Janet tried again, "Come on Sam, its Janet."  
  
Jack leaned over; only to be stopped by the doctor, "Wait, she'll lash out if you try to touch her." Janet turned to face him. "Jack, can you please get the bag that's at the side of my bed?" He dumbly nodded and did as he was bid, all the while listening to Sam's babbling and Janet's soothing, calming voice. He snapped the safety back on his pistol and made to tuck it into his pants, when he realized that he was only wearing boxers. When he returned to the room, he saw that Sam was wide-eyed and shaking as he rested his gun on the dresser. Janet was speaking to her firmly, but was keeping a distance. Jack handed Janet's medical bag over without a word, and hunkered down beside Sam, who was becoming quieter.  
  
"Nightmare?" he asked, keeping his voice low.  
  
Janet nodded. "Sort of. She'll be out of it in a minute."  
  
"Does this happen a lot?" Jack was watching Sam as her breathing evened. Strands of hair were hanging over her face and as she exhaled, the wisps were huffed outwards. What he could see of her eyes were still wide and glazed.  
  
Janet was pulling out some kit from her bag. "It was tailing off, but perhaps the change in routine has sparked it off again. I'm sorry, Jack, I should have warned you." She glanced at him quickly.  
  
"Janet?" Sam's voice was small and hesitant, and Janet moved over in a flash. "I'm here, Sam, I'm here. You're okay." Janet held out a hand, and Jack watched Sam regard it. Slowly, she reached out with her own left hand, her thin wrist showing delicate bones through parchment-like skin. Jack absurdly thought that her glittering wedding set looked like a little girl was trying on her mommy's rings.  
  
Janet angled her head down. "Are you in there, honey?"  
  
Sam nodded, but kept her eyes on the floorboards.  
  
Janet turned to Jack, whose heart was beginning to stop pounding. "It's safe to move her, can you help me?"  
  
Jack half stood up. "Sure, what...?"  
  
Janet indicated the bed with her head. "If you take her other arm." Carefully, Sam was laid back on the sheets and the doctor quickly covered her friend's pajama-clad body with the blankets. Swinging her stethoscope about her neck, Janet ripped open the Velcro on a blood pressure cuff. "Jack, do you think you could heat up some milk? Not too hot, with a little sugar?"  
  
Jack nodded. "Sure, but, aren't you going to give her a shot?"  
  
Janet returned his question with a look. "I do *not* stick people full of needles unnecessarily, contrary to popular belief."  
  
Suitably chastised, Jack retreated and busied himself heating up some milk. Spooning in some sugar, he watched his hand as it shook slightly. Okay, that had scared the crap out of him. Apophis, no sweat. Anubis, no problem. Ba'al, small problem. But Carter actually *losing* it, in *his* bedroom. *That* was a problem.  
  
By the time he returned to the room, Sam was sitting up slightly, showing a little more color in her cheeks. Janet accepted the mug of milk and smiled in thanks. Feeling dismissed, Jack returned to the lounge and slumped onto the sofa. He reached onto the floor to pick up the jogging pants he dumped there the night before. Easing them over his legs, he realized how cold it was. Reluctantly he got up, grasped the poker from the fender, and prodded at the fire. Distractedly snapping up some kindling, he managed to get the fire blazing by the time Janet walked back into the lounge.  
  
Their eyes met in the gloom. Jack smiled dolefully. "Do you wanna a cup of coffee?"  
  
Janet scowled. "To hell with the coffee, got any brandy?"  
  
Jack laughed, in spite of the situation. "Nah, but I've got some single malt somewhere."  
  
Janet nodded with purpose. "That'll do." She threw herself down on Jack's sleeping bag, covering her legs with a discarded blanket. She was staring into the firelight when Jack waved a glass half full of whisky in front of her eyes.  
  
"Thanks," she smiled. She lifted the glass to the firelight to check the level. "God, what are you trying to do? Give me alcoholic poisoning?"  
  
Jack chuckled softly as he settled himself on a nearby armchair. "You can hold it." He gestured towards Janet nightshirt logo, "'Archeologists do it very carefully'?" His tone was teasingly mocking. He had always known Daniel sported a perverse sense of humor. He lifted an identical glass to his lips and took a small sip.  
  
Janet looked down and smirked. "A present from my red hot lover."  
  
Jack laughed quietly again and let his eyes rest toward the fireplace. The smile faded from his lips. "Has she said *anything* about what happened on that damned planet?" He had *finally* asked the question.  
  
Janet shrugged. "Some. Each time I get her talking, she'll give up a bit more." She raked her fingers through her shoulder length hair which was loose and framing her pixie face.  
  
Jack chewed the inside of his mouth. "What the hell was going on in there?" He nodded toward the bedroom.  
  
Janet swirled the glass around in her hands. "Sort of a waking dream; she's re-living something. What happened, probably."  
  
Jack grimaced as some liquor stung his throat. "Is she going nuts?" He instantly wished he hadn't said it like that.  
  
His answer was a long stare. Janet sighed. "Psychology is really McKenzie's forte, but my guess is Sam has worked so hard to keep her emotions under control, she has repressed the conscious memories of her imprisonment. You know how bright she is; she's trying to apply rules of logic to circumstances that defy rationalization." Janet downed a gulp of whisky.  
  
Jack nodded in understanding. "So it comes out in nightmares and saves her from going nuts."  
  
Janet sighed again. "Well, that's what I think." She shifted her position on the sofa, wrapping the blanket around her more tightly.  
  
Jack returned his gaze to the fire again before continuing, "What's the deal with her husband?"  
  
Janet shook her head. "I swear, I have no idea. I can't understand his reactions. He's said some really strange things. I don't know what's going on there, because I'm sure he wasn't like that when they got married."  
  
Jack frowned into his drink. Memories of a T-shirt that Sara once got as a joke swam into his mind. "Yeah, we're all bastards, didn't you know?"  
  
"Oh, some of you are all right," Janet grinned.  
  
Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, swirling the whisky around in the glass. "Janet, can I ask you a question?"  
  
"Sure, "Janet replied, suspiciously.  
  
"Will she be able to have any more children?" He couldn't look his friend in the eye.  
  
The doctor blinked in surprise. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I get the feeling it's very important to her." Jack rested his glass on the fireplace hearth.  
  
His friend contemplated the liquid in her own glass and pursed her mouth. "There are other ways of being a mother than actually giving birth."  
  
Jack's head snapped up. "Crap, Janet, I'm sorry."  
  
Janet let out a small laugh. "Oh, it's just me, ignore me. The answer is 'maybe'; I can't say any more. Anyway, you're very perceptive, because it *is* important to her. How did you know?"  
  
"That's me – I'm psychotic, didn't you know?" Jack smirked.  
  
"I think you mean psychic?" Janet closed her eyes in mock irritation, but laughed softly into her glass. Yawning widely, she peered at the clock over the mantelpiece. "Time for bed!" she announced and downed the rest of her glass in one go.  
  
She handed the empty tumbler to Jack, who held it up to the dawn light and let out some good natured 'tut, tut' noises. "Are you going to get some sleep?" she asked.  
  
Jack squinted out of the windows. "I think I'll go for a run, I'm too keyed up."  
  
Janet was incredulous. "Jack, it's still dark!"  
  
Jack got up and stretched. "S'okay - the sun'll come up over that ridge soon, and I know this place well."  
  
Janet nodded and let out a yawn at the same time. "Yeah, I bet you do. Well, 'night, or morning, whatever."  
  
"Yeah, sure, see you later."  
  
He watched Janet stumble into her room and stretched again. Pulling on a sweatshirt, he made his way to the door. The early morning's events were sending his mind into a spin.  
  
He needed a run. A long one.  
  
********  
  
By the time Jack returned to the cabin, the sun was rising over the tops of the trees and the air was already warm. He could hear the sound of the shower running, and because there was only one bathroom, he busied himself making some fresh coffee and choosing some music to put on the small CD player that was in his lounge.  
  
He leaned heavily against the small kitchen counter top, drinking in the aria and pulling at his moisture-soaked sweats. The run had cleared his mind a little and allowed him to reflect on recent events. As he pounded the tree-lined tracks, he finally admitted to himself that it *was* jealousy that caused him to be so hard on Carter before the abduction. But, it was also concern. He instinctively felt that Sam and Joe's relationship wasn't sending out the right signals, and he was troubled that she had made a mistake by marrying *that* man. And he'd been right. He was mystified, but mostly extremely angry at Joe's rejection of this brave and vulnerable woman when she needed his help the most.  
  
The burbling sound of the coffee maker caught his attention. He checked the pot and sighed deeply when he acknowledged that he was also very sorry indeed that Sam had miscarried her baby, especially through such dire circumstances. The subject of his thoughts suddenly entered his kitchen. Sam was dressed in baggy blue jeans and a shapeless navy sweater. His 9mm dangled from her fingers.  
  
"I think you left something in my room," she said; holding it out, grip first.  
  
Jack half lurched towards it. "Sam, I'm so sorry...I forgot about it." He automatically checked the safety.  
  
Sam was watching him cautiously. "It's okay, I'm not that far gone."  
  
He stared at her, not knowing how to react, but she seemed to take pity on him and moved to pour the coffee. "What's that music?" She asked, handing a mug to him.  
  
"'E Lucevan Le Stelle'," Jack responded, somewhat mechanically. He couldn't believe he was so careless with a weapon. Again.  
  
"Excuse me?" Sam's brow furrowed just above her nose. He loved it when her brow did that, and he began to relax. He knew something that she didn't; now there was a shocker. It didn't happen very often.  
  
Jack smiled. "It's an aria from 'Tosca'. Loosely translated, it means: 'The Stars are Shining Brightly'." He quickly ejected the clip and tucked the gun into a drawer. He would lock it away in the gun safe later.  
  
Sam pulled her chin back, "*Now* you're kidding," she grinned.  
  
"Nope. You can choose something else if you don't like it," teased Jack lightly, turning to pull some eggs out of the small gas fridge.  
  
"No, I like it. It's...strong and passionate...and a bit dark." Sam's voice was quiet.  
  
Jack pursed his mouth, but fixed a grin on his face before spinning around, the eggs in hand. "Oh, yeah? A bit like me, would you say, Carter?" His heart flipped over when she laughed right out loud, her grin wide and her eyes dancing as she shook her head in fake annoyance.  
  
A jeans-clad Janet marched into the room, her damp hair swept up into a towel. "Hey! What's so funny?"  
  
"Nuthin'," smirked Jack.  
  
"Nothing," repeated Sam, her own grin cheeky.  
  
"Oh, you two, what are we going to do with you?" asked Janet. "Is that fresh?" she pulled the coffee pot from the hotplate and sniffed suspiciously.  
  
"Of course," said Jack, "What's that noise?"  
  
All three friends stilled and listened.  
  
Jack frowned. "Is that 'Achy, Breaky Heart'?"  
  
"MY CELL PHONE!" squawked Janet and bounded for the bedroom.  
  
Jack and Sam giggled conspiratorially. "Achy, Breaky Heart?" Jack said again, he would have to store *that* for future humiliation.  
  
Janet walked back into the lounge. "Is that better?" She spoke loudly into the cell phone mouthpiece. "I guess the reception isn't brilliant. Daniel? Yes! I can hear you now! How are you?"  
  
Jack sauntered into earshot and began to make loud, smooching noises. Janet waved him away. "Yes, they're here, what's up Daniel? No. I'm not sitting down. Daniel, what is going on? Just tell me!" Her eyes were losing their jolly sparkle. Jack stopped fooling around and looked back toward Sam, who edged into the room.  
  
"Oh, my God!" Janet's exclamation was filled with shock, her hand clamped over her mouth. "Is she okay? Oh God! What were her injuries? What was her coma score? No, Daniel! I mean exactly! I *am* calm, but I need you to tell me...." her breath shuddered in and her head began to dip. Jack was ready; he caught her arm and eased her to the sofa. He gently took the cell phone from Janet and spoke.  
  
"Daniel? It's Jack. Yeah, she's okay. Tell me again what's happened." He listened carefully as he kept an eye on Janet who was looking on intently, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He turned to Carter and made a writing gesture; she understood at once and grabbed a notepad from the kitchen. As she handed him the pad, he mouthed: 'Cassie, R.T.A.'. He took down a few notes then ended the call.  
  
Sam was sitting with her arm around a white-faced Janet, holding out a glass of water. Jack reached to hold Janet's hand. "Okay, Cassie *will* be fine. She's regained consciousness, and she's been asking for you. Scott, is that your brother?" Janet nodded "-is fine, whiplash only. You are booked on a flight from Minneapolis to Denver where Daniel will meet you. Then you will both fly to 'Frisco, but Janet, we only have three hours before your flight. We have to leave *now*, understand?" He looked at Sam as Janet nodded numbly. Sam immediately got up and went straight to Janet's room. He knew what she would do, so he released Janet's hand and went to grab his jacket and car keys. He was waiting for Janet to finish another call when Sam returned only minutes later. She was clutching Janet's hastily packed overnight bag and purse.  
  
Janet was trying, unsuccessfully, to call her sister-in-law. "Damnit!" She muttered as she snapped the cell phone shut and spat, "Answering machine."  
  
Jack reached out for her arm. "Try them in the car, Janet," he said, gently. She seemed to be holding up pretty well.  
  
Janet nodded dully and stared at the phone. "I guess." She looked at the bags that Sam was holding and suddenly seemed to realize what they were. "Aren't you coming?" She asked.  
  
Jack cleared his throat. "There's only one ticket booked, Jan; we'll follow. Or I'll drive back, I'm not sure."  
  
Janet nodded again. "That's not necessary. You both need a rest. Sam! I need to explain about your medication-"  
  
Jack was acutely conscious of the time, "Tell *me* in the car, I'll bet Carter knows, anyway."  
  
Janet Fraiser turned to look at Sam and enveloped her friend in a tight hug. "Take care of yourself," she whispered in Sam's ear.  
  
"You too, give Cassie a kiss for me. Tell her I'll see her later," replied Sam. As she pulled back from Janet's embrace, Jack watched Sam hold her gaze for a long moment before Janet broke away, her eyes moist.  
  
********  
  
Sam was sitting on the porch watching the dragonflies perform lazy petronellas over the pond in the afternoon sunshine. She sipped slowly at her soda, her mind drifting. The Colonel had telephoned a couple of hours ago to say that the dash to Minneapolis airport was crazy, but Janet made her flight, and that he was on his way back.  
  
She turned the book over in her hands again. She had read quite a proportion of the relatively slim volume and kept staring at the title. It kept spinning over in her mind: 'If She is Raped: A Book for Husbands, Fathers, and Male Friends.' She didn't recognize the authors, 'McEvoy and Bookings', but then, psychology wasn't her field.  
  
She heard his SUV crunching along the rough tracks before she saw it, and tucking the book out of sight, she sighed.  
  
As Jack got out, he gave her a cheery wave. "Yo, Carter!"  
  
She smiled in return, but realized he probably couldn't see her face as the porch was in a slight shadow, so she raised her arm. Jack arched his back and shook his legs out. Trudging up the steps, he plunked himself down on a rough handmade chair, a pair to the two-seater she was sitting on.  
  
"We made it," Jack leaned back and stretched out his long legs.  
  
Sam smiled again. "Evidently."  
  
Jack tilted his head back, getting the kinks out of his neck. "Yeah. So, Carter, what ya been doin'?"  
  
She took in a discrete breath. "I took a walk, tried to watch TV until I realized it was playback only, fixed some chili for dinner, and tidied up."  
  
Jack nodded, impressed. "I forgot to mention the TV." He looked skywards. "I guess if I got a decent aerial, I could get it 'live', but I never felt the need. I bring up some hockey videos, movies-"  
  
"The Simpsons," Sam interjected.  
  
Jack grinned. "You found them."  
  
Sam braced herself. "Uh, huh. And I found something else. I moved your things into Janet's room so that you could get a decent nights sleep and this fell out of your backpack."  
  
She pulled the book from behind her and rested it on her lap.  
  
Jack sat up and stared at it. He pulled his mouth into a frown. "Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find it."  
  
Sam smiled a little. "I know, although it was a surprise. How much have you read?" She asked, curious.  
  
"About one half, I got it from Daniel, but it was Teal'c who found it." Jack leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The afternoon sun caught his eyes and added a russet tint to their dark depths.  
  
Sam picked up the book and deftly spun the edges of the pages through her fingers. Hesitantly she ventured: "It seems to be quite good, informative."  
  
Jack nodded. "I thought so."  
  
Sam held the book toward him. Gently, Jack took it. "Thank you," he said, simply.  
  
It was Sam's turn to nod. Her emotions were assaulting her again, but she dropped them into that box marked: 'Later' and contemplated the tranquil scene before her.  
  
Jack began, "Sam-"  
  
"I don't want to talk...okay?" No, she wasn't opening the box in front of him.  
  
"Sure. Whatever you say." Jack leaned back again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him chewing the inside of his mouth. Heck, he possessed a lot of irritating peccadillos.  
  
"I didn't mean to be rude." She paused to consider what to say next. "I will... talk, when it's time."  
  
"I know."  
  
Sam Carter turned to look upon him. Grateful seemed to be such an inadequate word for his loyalty and his patience, and for the fact that he had pulled her out of her worst living nightmare. Could she trust him? She knew the answer.  
  
She took off her engagement ring. Regarding the huge opal surrounded by twelve brilliant cut diamonds, she remembered the day that Joe proposed. His whole family was present for a Faxon gathering, and the offer was right out of the blue. She was flattered, overawed and a trifle embarrassed by his showy proposal and she said 'yes', when really she meant 'maybe'.  
  
Sam knew it was expensive, because Joe insured it for fifteen thousand dollars, and made sure she knew it.  
  
Standing up, she assessed its slight weight in her palm. Drawing back her arm she pitched it perfectly into the heart of the steady lake. She could always throw well for a 'girl'.  
  
Sitting down, she saw Jack grinning at her.  
  
"Feel better?" He asked, casually.  
  
"Yup." She stretched her legs out in a postural echo of Jack O'Neill.  
  
"What about the wedding ring?" he enquired, lightly.  
  
"Face to face." And she knew just where she was going to stick it.  
  
"Can I watch?"  
  
What timing! Sam just smirked and turned her gaze back to the water.  
  
Jack coughed. "Pity 'bout the diamonds, though. I would have hocked it."  
  
Sam spun her head sharply. Was he serious? A shit-eating grin was plastered all over his face.  
  
Sam began to giggle and didn't stop until well after supper.  
  
********  
  
Sam awoke to the smell of bacon. She stretched languorously under the patchwork quilt and cozy blankets. Peeking out, she saw that the sun was high overhead; he let her sleep in again. She could get used to this. And she had slept another night without nightmares. Sam closed her eyes again and let her mind wander. They had been at Jack's – she hardly thought of him as 'The Colonel' now – for three restful days. He was charming, attentive, and good company. All qualities that she credited to Joe when they first started seeing each other, but Jack was different. His thoughtfulness was understated but caring, and he let her have space. Usually, that meant he ensconced himself on the small deck that served as a fishing pier with a rod in his hand and a line dangling in the water while she read, sitting on the porch. He even came with her on her walks as she tried to build up her stamina and exercise her ankle. He pointed out native wildlife, but mostly the walks were conducted in silence. That was fine with her; it was enough to know that another human being was there, a friendly presence if she needed it. In the evenings after supper, they usually ended sitting in the living room, across from one another in the comfy chairs, chatting or reading.  
  
The pain, physical and otherwise, was finally receding.  
  
Janet called the night that she and Daniel arrived in San Francisco to say that Cassie was going to be okay, and that they were going to stay with her brother until she was discharged from hospital. The relief was immense, and Jack offered to drive Sam back to Colorado Springs the next day. However, there didn't seem much point. She would be going back to an empty house; although she made the excuse that they should allow Jack to rest before he made another long journey. Moreover, it was peaceful here and she was beginning to relax.  
  
Jack owned a vast library of books, some old, some new, fiction and non- fiction. Sam was astonished at the breadth of his reading. He shyly shrugged away her surprise with his usual, casual dismissiveness and invited her to borrow what took her interest. His cooking skills also took her back a little. Just last night he made a pizza from scratch. Made. A pizza. From scratch.  
  
As the evening was unseasonably warm, they sat out on the porch, talking about missions, friends, films they liked. It was...nice. When the evening melted into night, they watched bats flit across the surface of the lake and listened to sound of calling loons. Sam admitted to herself it was one of the most pleasant evenings that she had enjoyed for quite a while.  
  
She smiled into the pillow as she remembered. She could get used to this.  
  
A loud, sharp knock interrupted her thoughts and the door opened to reveal a gray tousled head.  
  
"Wakey, wakey, Carter!" he bellowed, playfully.  
  
She snuggled further down in the blankets, but peeked her head out. "Five more minutes," she pleaded.  
  
He giggled. The noise was a paradox. "Come on, Carter, it's eleven- thirty."  
  
That made her sit up. "Jack, for heaven's sake, why didn't you wake me?" Past eleven o'clock! She hadn't slept so long since she was a teenager!  
  
Jack grinned in response. "You must have needed it. Come on you, I've got hot waffles, bacon, fresh coffee..."  
  
That was it. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" She scrambled out of bed and dashed past Jack into the bathroom. As she washed, she could hear him singing opera along with his CD player. Brushing her teeth, giggling to the noise, she abruptly felt bile rising in her throat. Slamming the toilet seat back, she hunched over it, waiting for the inevitable. This had happened yesterday as well. Her cocktail of medication was resulting in nausea, and she had been prescribed anti-emetics to control it. Unfortunately, she ran out of them the day after Janet left, and was trying to get along without them. It wasn't working, but the sensation usually passed as rapidly as it came on.  
  
There was no problem making short work of her 'brunch' as Jack called it. Her appetite was returning and she could feel herself finally getting her strength back. Jack nodded approvingly at her empty plate as he cleared the small gingham-bedecked dining table – just room enough for two.  
  
"Fancy a walking partner, Carter?" he asked, washing the plates up quickly.  
  
"Certainly," Sam replied. He always asked, and she knew why. He knew that she was a bit nervous going out on her own. Jack wasn't belittling her by saying that he must come with her, but rather, he always asked in such a way as to suggest that it was *her* who was doing *him* a favor.  
  
The sun was high in the sky as they rambled around the lake. Jack was pointing out a local bird that he called a 'bobwhite', when he suddenly leapt down the bank, and scooped up some stones. He gleefully began to 'skip' them over the water's surface. Sam laughed at his boyish enthusiasm from the bank crest.  
  
"Of course, you know why they bounce like that? The surface tension of the meniscus-" she began.  
  
"Aarrgghh! Carter! Don't ruin the magic or I'll pitch you in!" Jack retorted, and started up the verge.  
  
Sam laughed, waving him away. "No way José! It's too cold!"  
  
Jack shook his head and held out his hand. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad! Show me some backbone, Carter!"  
  
Sam's smile dropped and her gaze wandered around past the water.  
  
Jack closed his eyes in self-admonishment. "Crap, Carter, I'm sorry, I forgot about your back, I'm an asshole. Sorry."  
  
Sam nodded, her smile a little forced. The skin on her back still resembled the runways at LAX.  
  
Jack angled his head down, but cast his eyes up. "I'm sorry, Sam."  
  
He suddenly reached up again, surprising her. He pointed to the delicate chain around her neck and asked in a concerned voice. "Have you lost your cross?"  
  
Sam's hands flew to her throat and then followed the chain to the back of her neck. She smiled, and as she nudged the cross around to the front, she shook her head. "No, it's here." She noticed Jack looking at it. "It was my mom's," she clarified. She hadn't taken it off since Daniel put it on her, and Jack had obviously noticed.  
  
Jack nodded in return, "Yeah, I figured. It's nice...it's...you should wear it more often."  
  
Sam hitched the cross up so she could look at the keepsake. "Nah, it doesn't go well with dog tags."  
  
Jack grinned ruefully in return and held up his hand again for a heave up the bank, and Sam obliged. He exhaled. "I'm gettin' too old for this!" he groused with humor.  
  
Sam smiled back, as they stood facing each other. "You, sir? Never."  
  
"Just you keep thinking that, Carter." He winked at her, making her laugh. As he turned to walk away, he realized they were still holding hands. He released her.  
  
"Sorry," he shrugged, and turned to follow the path once more.  
  
********  
  
The walk continued pleasantly, but Sam began to feel nauseous again. She said nothing to Jack. He would make a fuss, insist to going to a doctor or something, and she didn't want to break the spell that seemed to embrace this magical place. It was late in the afternoon as they rounded the lake in sight of the cabin, and Sam began to feel her stomach rolling. She dropped back a little and took a few deep breaths, but to no avail. Abruptly, she felt her temperature soar and her diaphragm heaving upwards, as she doubled over and deposited her undigested lunch behind a bush. As she gasped, Sam suddenly felt something on her back and let out a cross between a yell and a scream as she whirled around and away from the source.  
  
Jack stood with his hands out and up. "Okay, okay, I won't touch you, I promise." He looked her up and down. "You all right?" he asked, handing her a clean, folded handkerchief from his pocket.  
  
Sam nodded and began to wipe at her mouth with the hanky. She was desperately trying to stop her hands from shaking. "Sorry," she smiled, nervously.  
  
Jack chewed his lip. He watched her for a minute. "Sam, are you okay?"  
  
She sighed. "What do you think?"  
  
Jack pulled off the ball cap he was wearing, and scratched the back of his head. The look on his face was one of extreme discomfort. "I'm sorry I touched you."  
  
Sam jerked her head up. "Why are you sorry? Has Janet said something?" She was beginning to feel her anger rising. Still, Jack did not reply.  
  
"Well?" She felt quite hot despite the damp chill surrounding the water.  
  
"Not exactly..." his voice trailed off.  
  
The penny dropped. Sam nodded and glared off into the distance. "My Dad." Jack looked up at her and then back to examining his hat again. Sam took a few deep breaths and then pushed past her CO, as fast as her weak ankle would carry her. She heard the Colonel quickly turn and she counted just three strides before he fell into step beside her.  
  
"Sam, please, he was upset when he told me. He cares for you very much."  
  
Sam said nothing, but continued her awkward gait toward the cabin.  
  
"Carter, I'm okay with this. Slow down, willya?"  
  
Sam broke into a run and was surprised to find she could run with greater ease than she could walk. She heard him thumping up behind her.  
  
"Carter, for God's sake. SAM!" he yelled.  
  
Sam stopped short and waited until he rounded in front of her.  
  
She was going to get the first word in, her fists balled at her sides. "Will *you* stop? Huh? Will *you* stop walking on eggshells around me? FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! I don't have a problem with people I know touching me! How *dare* my father tell you that! Does everyone have to know every little detail about me? There are some things that I want to remain private! PRIVATE. Do you understand? As in: I don't want all and sundry knowing. I'll save that that for 'SGC Anonymous'." Sam threw her head back. "Hi everyone! My name is Samantha Carter and I was beaten, tortured and raped! Okay, I said it! SATISFIED?"  
  
Jack winced as he took the full force of her yell.  
  
"All done?" he asked.  
  
Sam gulped. "I...I guess so."  
  
He stuffed his cap into his pocket. "I'm gonna touch you, Carter. Don't punch me."  
  
Sam nodded numbly and watched Jack slowly raise his left arm. She observed him placing his hand around her upper right arm and take a step toward her. He elevated his right hand and rested it on her left shoulder. Sam felt on the verge of an incredible release. She looked up into the face of the man standing so close to her. A face so familiar.  
  
"They raped me, but I don't remember." Her throat was tight. His gaze was intense. "They raped me, and my baby died, Jack."  
  
He nodded slowly, not blinking. "I know."  
  
Sam rested her head against his shoulder. "They raped me." Her knees buckled and she felt Jack tighten his grip, holding her firmly against him as he lowered her to the sandy ground.  
  
Quietly, he said in her ear: "You're safe here, Sam. It's all right. You can let it out now."  
  
It was too late. Release had come; she was crying already. She felt Jack pull her onto his lap with his arms about her. He began to rock her gently. She heard him whispering, "Shush," and felt him stroke her hair. She cried and howled and held on to him tightly. And still he sat with her, saying nothing and doing nothing, except rocking her slowly.  
  
The setting sun was casting amaranthine shadows when Jack finally helped Sam up and walked her to the cabin, his arm firmly supporting her around her waist. Taking her to the bedroom, he sat her on the bed and gently lowered her back onto the quilt. Sam dazedly watched him carefully remove her sneakers and cover her with a warm blanket.  
  
As a sleep fuelled by emotional exhaustion claimed her consciousness, she felt a light touch on her forehead. Peeping through half-closed eyelashes, she saw Jack's face retreating from her view and realized that he must have kissed her.  
  
Sam nestled under the blanket and was aware that she fell asleep without fear.  
  
********  
  
Early the next morning, when Sam awoke, she found Jack sleeping outside her door, sprawled on a bedroom chair. She woke him gently and the two people padded out to the porch, bare-footed, clutching mugs of steaming coffee.  
  
Sam told Jack what she remembered about her captivity.  
  
She told him of her fear. She told him of the beatings. She told him that she had desperately tried to protect her abdomen, but the guards had become angry and chained her arms out of the way. She told him of her utter despair when she realized that she was losing her baby. She told him that they had never even asked her any questions. She told him that when she couldn't stand because of her ankles, they had forced her onto her back, tore off her remaining clothes, and whipped her. She told him that she couldn't remember the sexual assault, that she really couldn't remember it. She told him that at some point after that, she had prayed that she would die.  
  
And she cried again, with Jack's arm about her. Hesitant, apologetic tears that Jack brushed away, gentle and quiet. As they sat, watching the dawn unfurl, Sam thought she saw tears in Jack's eyes reflecting the tender, solemn dawn time.  
  
********  
  
End of Part Three 


	4. Summer

TITLE: KALEIDOSCOPE – Part 4 Warnings, disclaimer, etc in part one  
  
****** SUMMER  
  
******  
  
Jack was humming to himself as he washed up the breakfast things in his cabin's tiny kitchen. 'Breakfast', he mused. It was a bit late for that. In only one week, the pair of them were adopting terrible habits. Up late, over eating, *resting*. He grinned to himself as he watched Sam through the open window. She was picking wild flowers down by the pond. She looked so at peace, plodding through the grass, her hair gilded by the late morning sun. He had to admit, she was definitely getting better. She was finally gaining weight, some of her strength was returning, her ankle loosened up, and she told him that her 'undercarriage' was much less painful. She told him *that*. She trusted him again.  
  
They even talked a little about the baby. She used words like: 'empty', 'cheated' and 'grieving'. He was surprised at her depth of feeling for the lost child, since she had only known she was expecting for such a short time. However, he could relate her feelings to Charlie's death, and they talked about him, and Sara as well.  
  
When Sam couldn't talk anymore, he left it at that and let her work through her period of mourning with quiet support. When she wouldn't talk about Joe, he didn't press her. He hoped it was the right thing to do, and he thought it might be, because there was Carter, grinning, as she puffed off dandelion heads. She looked up toward the window, as if sensing his scrutiny.  
  
He waved back to acknowledge her cheery smile. He was happy that she was happy.  
  
"Are you sure it isn't illegal to pick wildflowers here?" she called, waving a small bunch of flowers at him.  
  
"Who gives a damn, Carter, it's my land, pick whatever the hell you want!" he yelled back, and laughed when she stuck her tongue out him. He acknowledged that this isolated existence couldn't last forever, and that real life was still waiting for them. Although there were no declarations or demonstrations of love between them, Jack knew something was changed. They were once again connected as close friends, but there was more. For now, it was enough for him; he wasn't going to push Sam any further. As for what the future held, he had no idea.  
  
He sighed contentedly as he pulled the plug from the drain and watched the dirty dishwater bleed away. Damn, his cell phone was ringing from his bedroom; he thought it was switched off. He let the voice mail pick it up, but then felt guilty, and lumbered through to check the unanswered call.  
  
He thumbed through the phone's menu options, trying to remember how the damn thing worked.  
  
It was General Hammond's private office line.  
  
Crap.  
  
Jack had rung the General only yesterday to update him on Sam's progress. It must be something urgent if he was ringing Jack back so soon. He pressed 'callback'.  
  
Ten minutes later, he slammed his cell phone shut and felt his happiness dissolve into his sneakers. Samantha Carter's life was about to be turned upside down again.  
  
They had lived seven days of 'Jack and Sam', now it was back to the seven years of 'Colonel' and 'Major'.  
  
********  
  
Sam was sitting on the dock with her feet dangling in the cool water and saw Jack striding towards her. She raised her arm only for the wave to be stilled, stopped by the grim expression on Jack's face as he approached.  
  
He hunkered down next to her, crossing his legs carefully.  
  
"Sam, I'm sorry, we've – I've – been recalled. I've just received a call from Hammond. He couldn't give me details and he used code, but we're needed at Area 51. Something's going down. They need 'Prometheus' operational. They need us. They need you." He looked up, his face a mixture of determination and regret. He screwed his eyes up against the sun.  
  
Sam swallowed slowly and stared at two avocets paddling around the edge of the lake.  
  
"I have to rendezvous with a transport just outside Chisholm, off state highway 73. I think a Chinook from Reserve Command is taking me to Ellsworth across the state line. But Sam, you don't have to do this, I can- "  
  
"It's okay," she spluttered out. She could feel her pulse racing and wrestled with her composure.  
  
"No, Sam, listen to me, there must be something about the AF contravening the Dept. of Labor's Heath and Safety regulations by recalling personnel on medical leave. You could stay here as long as you want, or take a flight back to Denver."  
  
She smiled wryly. There was no way Hammond would have asked for her if it wasn't *major*. Her curiosity was overtaking the emotions that were ruling her thoughts lately. This was something she had to do; they needed her. She had something to prove.  
  
"When do we leave?" she asked firmly.  
  
********  
  
They need you.  
  
Her mind seemed stuck on those words as she clambered out of the CH-47 onto the tarmac of Ellsworth, with Jack holding steadily to her arm. The downdraft from the tandem rotor blades whipped her hair about, stinging her eyes and reminding her that her current hairstyle was most definitely *non*- regulation.  
  
A hurrying figure emerged from the terminal building, smacking his hat on as he jogged toward them through the afternoon heat haze. Major Paul Davis came to a terse halt. "Colonel O'Neill, sir!" He raised his arm to render a rushed salute, but caught himself in time.  
  
Sam saw the Colonel raise an eyebrow; why was Davis so rattled that he nearly saluted an in-civvies officer? Paul turned to her and, smiling warmly, he shook her hand tightly.  
  
"Major! I'm very pleased to see you looking so well." He was watching her carefully.  
  
Sam nodded. So he knew. Well, he practically 'devoured' every report that came out of Cheyenne Mountain, so of course he knew. Major Davis coughed and indicated the gleaming Learjet on the taxi pan before them.  
  
Jack squinted at the tail designation in the afternoon sunshine. Pulling out his sunglasses he remarked dryly, "You *didn't* bring Air Force One?"  
  
Davis grinned and shook his head as he turned to march toward the aircraft steps. "I think CNN might have noticed, sir. This was the fastest jet at Dulles, and it *is* a planetary-wide emergency," he added.  
  
"Well, now *that's* a shocker," grumbled the Colonel as he stomped toward the plane, but his expression was serious, and his gait determined, as he bounded up the aircraft steps three at a time.  
  
Sam followed her superior officer with her thoughts in turmoil. A dark hammerhead cloud was forming to the south. She was surprised to find herself short of breath as she buckled herself into the comfortable seat. It wasn't the encroaching storm that was bothering her, however.  
  
"Very plush. Our tax dollars at work," muttered the Colonel, as he secured himself next to her. "Ya think we could get a couple for the SGC, eh, Carter?"  
  
Sam smiled thinly as the Pratt & Whitney engines propelled them westwards to Nevada at 520 miles an hour.  
  
********  
  
Even before the jet leveled off, Davis began to pull charts and satellite photographs from his valise and deposited them on the table between them.  
  
He made a fist and coughed into it before addressing Sam.  
  
"Major Faxon, I have some bad news, please prepare yourself," he began.  
  
"Okay, and its still 'Carter', Major." Sam was taken aback. Was it her dad?  
  
Davis straightened in his chair before continuing. "Ambassador Faxon was abducted from your house last night. It looks like the Aschen."  
  
"What!" Sam exclaimed. "The *Aschen*? How?" She felt her stomach freefalling, and tried to concentrate on Davis' explanation.  
  
"That has not yet been determined. Your house was being monitored by the NID. The Ambassador has been under surveillance since he got back from the Aschen home world. They have reason to believe he underwent some sort of mind control there."  
  
Sam gaped. "Wha? What?" she stuttered, but was conscious of the curious stare from the Colonel on her left. "Please continue," she said, keeping her voice even.  
  
"Apparently, the maid went to retrieve something from Mr. Faxon's study, only to find a scene of disarray. When she was unable to find the Ambassador, she called the local police. Because the phone line was being monitored, the NID were on the scene within minutes, having established an observation base along the block. The NID contacted the CMC to confirm if an alien ship was detectable in the area. At first, they could find nothing, until an unusual energy reading was distinguished from the background electrical noise. It matched the energy signature of the Aschen harvester taken three years ago on P3A-194. By you, in fact." Davis paused and looked between Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter.  
  
Sam was conscious the Colonel was staring at her again. When she spoke, she was deliberately careful.  
  
"Major, you are implying that my husband was compromised by an enemy before and during our marriage? And the NID knew about this?" Rain was beginning to trace jagged streaks across the jet's windows, snaking its way east.  
  
"Yes." Davis reply was succinct.  
  
Sam kept her face stony. "Am I under suspicion?"  
  
"Not to my knowledge. You were recalled because of your work on the X-303. It seems like the Aschen have made some sort of alliance with the system lords, and-"  
  
Sam was first with the question; "What makes you say that, Major?"  
  
Davis pointed to one of the charts. "NORAD tracked the Aschen energy trail to here," he drew a line with his finger from Earth to the planet of Pluto, "Well, to be precise, to the moon of Pluto; the dark side of Charon."  
  
Jack's eyebrows rose. "The 'Dark Side'? Does Teal'c know?"  
  
Davis pulled his chin back, his brow furrowed. He pulled out printouts of long-range radio telemetry data and some blurred photographs. "This was taken by the Deep Space Tracking Network at AF Satcom before they moved behind the moon," he continued warily.  
  
The Colonel scooted one of the photos closer. It was of an alien ship, sporting a macabre 'crown of thorns' construction array. Part of an Aschen- design ship could just be seen behind it. "That looks like one of those 'Death Star' planet buster ships that Anubis had." He looked at Davis for confirmation. "I don't understand what the Aschen will want with an Earth that Anubis will have blown to hell."  
  
"Yes, sir," was Davis' clipped reply. "We are guessing they are amassing prior to an attack, but they've made no move as yet."  
  
"*Any* indication of their intentions?" The Colonel was sounding irritated.  
  
The Major smiled a small, apologetic smile. "That's all we really know, Colonel. The plan is to ready the X-303, like yesterday, and blow them all to hell."  
  
Jack pursed his lips. "Ironic, considering Charon was the mythical ferryman to the Underworld," he mused to himself, studying the Satcom images.  
  
There was a lengthy silence. The rain continued to blatter the windows.  
  
At last the Colonel looked up and spoke again: "Is that the plan?"  
  
Davis nodded. "Unless you can think of something better, sir?"  
  
Jack gave out a hollow laugh. "Me? You must be desperate." He turned to Sam. "Carter? Your take on this?"  
  
Sam cleared her throat. Her mental box stuffed with emotions was threatening to burst open. She felt completely confused by the revelations concerning her brainwashed husband. She also felt betrayed, not only by him, but also by one of the security agencies that were supposed to protect the citizens of their country. They had tapped her phone line, for God's sake! She acknowledged that she was concerned for Joe, but she could not feel distressed for him, not even knowing what she knew now. Sam took a small breath before answering. "Since the X-303 was recovered from Tangrea, little progress has been made on repairing the hyperdrive due to the imposed budgetary constraints. There's a lot of work to do."  
  
Davis nodded. "From what I understand, Major, it has already been started. You will be joining the existing team as soon as we touch down." He rose from his seat. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just check on the current situation." He nodded towards the Colonel and went forward to the cockpit.  
  
Jack pursed his lips. "Sam, are you okay with this?" He turned in his seat to fully appraise her.  
  
Sam took a sip of the complimentary Evian, cool against her dry throat. She ran her fingers over the plastic, swirling around the drops of condensation. "I don't really have a choice, do I? The Aschen must want access to Earth's resources badly. Do you realize Joe was...compromised when we..."  
  
"I know." He paused. "Sam, this seems to be the usual hopeless situation. Are you up to it?"  
  
A lot would depend on what she said next. "Yes, sir, I am." She picked at the label on the water bottle.  
  
"I can stop this here and now." He was still in protective Colonel mode.  
  
She looked up to see his forceful gaze searching for a sign. She held her freefall back, her resolve concrete. "No. I'm up to it."  
  
He was still assessing her. "Very good, Major." He broke the stare and looked out of the window. "Best buckle up again; I can smell the clean, sweet air of Area 51 from here," he muttered sarcastically.  
  
"Yes, sir." She threaded the strap through the buckle and tightened it as far as it would go. As the aircraft began its descent, she felt the strap cutting in, but didn't adjust it.  
  
The pain was reminding her she was still alive.  
  
********  
  
Jack beamed at the first person to meet them on the runway at Nellis.  
  
"T! You dog! Fancy meeting you here!" He looked closer at the hat that Teal'c was using to obscure his gold tattoo. "Is that *my* beanie?"  
  
Teal'c raised his eyebrow and following Major Davis' retreating back, he opened his mouth to answer, but it was Sam that he turned to. "MajorCarter, it is a great pleasure to see you," he exclaimed and bent down to grace Sam with a spontaneous hug. He pulled back slightly and said so quietly that Jack strained to hear him, "Are you sufficiently recovered, Samantha?"  
  
Sam smiled warmly and nodded. "I'm doing okay. The Colonel has been looking after me."  
  
"Of that, I have no doubt," replied the big warrior, bowing slightly to Jack.  
  
Sam linked an arm through her friend's as they walked toward the inconspicuous entrance to the underground cavern where 'Prometheus' was dry- docked. "It's good to see you, Teal'c. Were you recalled, or were you on Earth when all this kicked off?" she asked.  
  
"It was a fortunate happenstance that I returned to the SGC to advise General Hammond of the latest developments regarding the system lords. It was, however, a surprise to learn of their apparent alliance with the Aschen." Teal'c released Sam's arm to open the door to the subterranean facility, and gestured her through.  
  
"Yeah, slippery little suckers, aren't they?" Jack piped up from behind, feeling distinctly left out of the conversation.  
  
"They are most certainly a nefarious and untrustworthy race, O'Neill," agreed Teal'c. "I was also taken aback and concerned to hear that your husband appears to have been collaborating with them, MajorCarter," continued Teal'c as they entered the elevator that would take them 500 feet underground.  
  
Sam paused before answering. "Yes, so was I."  
  
Teal'c looked at her askance. "I am certain that your integrity has not been called into question."  
  
As the elevator doors closed, Jack heard her softly say: "Yet."  
  
When the doors opened, Jack groaned inwardly at the sight of the people waiting for them. Lt. Colonel Samuels and Dr. Rodney McKay. Add Kinsey and they would have the full set of dick-  
  
"Sir!" Samuels snapped his head up. "If you'll come this way, General Vidrine and Colonel Ronson wish to speak with you immediately!" He indicated to Jack one of the portakabins located off to one side of the dark, cavernous space.  
  
Jack pulled his chin back, "Best not keep the General waiting, then, eh, Sparky?" He sauntered off with deliberation, enjoying the thunderous look that shadowed Samuels' face. He glanced back briefly, to see Carter, Teal'c and McKay heading toward the gargantuan X-303 that dominated the underground complex. He was feeling an unexpected urge to turn, grab Sam Carter and get her the hell out.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
Duty before self.  
  
********  
  
The briefing was over before it really began, as it was clear to Jack that neither the three star General nor Ronson knew much more than he did. In fact, they were hoping that he could provide some intel having had experience of planet-busting motherships. They seemed a little pissed when he could add nothing to the detailed reports that SG-1 provided following the destruction of Abydos.  
  
Jack was mulling this over and shaking his head with frustration when he headed back to the X-303. As he crossed the gantry with Samuels sniping at his heels, technicians were busing to and fro carrying technical paraphernalia. He stopped a couple of times to give way to the number of Air Force personnel that were milling about. A small figure carrying a large reel of thick wiring accidentally bumped into him, and an earnest young face peeked out over the top.  
  
"Hailey? That you?" asked Jack, squinting around the load.  
  
Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey's eyes widened as she realized just whom she had collided with. "Sir! My apologies, I-"  
  
Jack cut her off, mid-excuse, "Oh, for crying out loud, Hailey, give that to me, it's nearly as big as you are." He reached out to relieve the diminutive officer of her load.  
  
Hailey held fast. "No, I'm fine, sir, really. I've got it." She beetled off along the gangplank, leaving Jack with a curious sense of abandonment. Samuels caught up and overheard the exchange. Jack nodded towards Hailey who was by now disappearing into the bowels of the ship. "What is it with women these days?"  
  
"They are part of a fighting force; there's no room for individuality," was Samuels' stilted reply.  
  
Jack nodded, "Oh, you mean like a genius female second in command, a civilian intellectual and a couple of enemy aliens?" He once again enjoyed the non-plussed look on Samuels' face before following Hailey across the gantry. That asshole would never beat him.  
  
As soon as they crossed the threshold of the immense craft, Samuels made his excuses and turned to the elevator that would take him to the bridge. As the doors closed, Jack called out, "Bye! Love you!" Samuels glared at him through the closing elevator doors, so Jack blew a kiss for good measure. He turned happily and wandered towards the engine room to find Carter.  
  
Odds on, she was there.  
  
And indeed she was, bending over a bank of panels in the confined space. Or more accurately, he could only see her tush; the three shitloads of wiring she was trying to MacGyver obscured the rest. She was now wearing a standard issue boiler suit that she must have acquired from somewhere. As she raised her head to accept a tool from Teal'c, he was amused to see her longer hair pulled into a ponytail with an elastic band. Carter with a ponytail! A 'girly Carter' was definitely a contradiction of terms.  
  
"Hey, Carter, 'T', how goes it?"  
  
Sam nodded forcefully as she wiped her hands on her suit. "The cluster module governing the hyperdrive is not communicating with these PCI fiber channel host adapters."  
  
Jack peered into the hole illuminated by a portable inspection lamp. "I thought this thing uses crystal technology?" he asked.  
  
Sam leaned over the hole and angled the lamp over the wiring. "Actually, sir, you are correct.. again."  
  
Jack leaned around to grin at Teal'c, who responded with a raise of his left eyebrow.  
  
"But," Sam continued, "only the key systems use the alien crystals. These modules use conventional wires and chips."  
  
"Oh," said Jack, a little deflated. "Well, have you tried WD-40?"  
  
A voice commented behind him. "Colonel! I wasn't aware that you had graduated with a degree in Applied Astrophysical Engineering." Rodney McKay's voice was graced with its usual sarcastic tone.  
  
Jack grimaced as he straightened, and slowly turned. "Doctor, how nice to see you again, we've missed you *so* much at Cheyenne."  
  
McKay gave Jack an un-amused smirk as he handed Sam a Styrofoam cup of coffee. "I thought you might have."  
  
"Well, can you hot-wire this thing, or not?" Despite the gravity of the situation, Jack was enjoying this banter. He cast a quick glance over at Carter, who was grinning a little, wiping her slightly grubby hands on a paper towel.  
  
McKay raised his eyebrows. "Watch and learn, Colonel, watch and learn."  
  
Jack turned to Carter with his own eyebrows uplifted in query.  
  
"By 1900 hours, sir," she smiled.  
  
He tried not to lock her gaze, but he did. Her hands stilled around the towel. Instead of opening his mouth to say something stupid, he settled for a curt nod.  
  
"Very good, Major, carry on." With that, he turned abruptly on his heel and left them to it.  
  
********  
  
The Prometheus was not ready at 1900; it was ready for launch at 1841 hours. Sam was surprised at McKay's resourcefulness. He definitely knew the ship inside and out - much better than she did. Sam admitted she was grateful for his presence, annoying though he was at times. He seemed quite chipper, excited to be playing at 'saving the world' again. Sam didn't have the heart to tell him that if his knowledge weren't needed on the voyage, he would probably be left behind in Nevada along with all the other non-essential personnel. The modified Naquadria engines would be able to run only on one-quarter power. They couldn't risk any more within the confines of the Solar System.  
  
Sam's head snapped up from the conduit she was battening down to hear Major Gant's voice over the ship wide PA.  
  
"Standby by for launch, T minus three minutes. All personnel not required are to disembark immediately."  
  
Following the standard repeat, the general quarters alarm began to sound as Sam felt the pre-ignition sequence of the engines commencing. A loose nut resting on the conduit cover began to rattle almost imperceptibly and she watched as the resonating frequency of the vibration forced the small piece of metal to the edge of the panel. She held out her hand under the nut as it was jogged over the precipice and deftly caught it. Her hand closed over the metal as McKay waved another cup of coffee under her nose.  
  
"Nice catch," he commented. He peeled the lid off his own drink and took a sip.  
  
Sam smiled her thanks for the drink and settled back on the bulkhead to do the same. She considered her next words. "You know, McKay, you really don't have to stay on board. You are a civilian, after all."  
  
McKay nodded a little too forcefully, slopping some of the hot drink onto his hand. He sucked at his fist. "I know. But, well, zoom off into outer space; beat up a few bad guys, and all that while getting to work with you. I wouldn't miss it. No, uh-uh. Not in a million." His boyish grin couldn't help but make Sam laugh.  
  
She sobered for a moment and fiddled with the nut before putting it in a pocket. "We might not be coming back. No-one would think less of you if you got off now."  
  
McKay gave out a sarcastic snort. "Is that because you military types think we civilians are some sort of lower life form anyway?"  
  
Sam slowly shook her head. "No." She paused before continuing. "It's because life has to go on. Someone has to survive to make our sacrifice worthwhile."  
  
McKay looked at her for a long moment. "I know, but I've got no family. I'm in. But, Major, are you okay? One of the bridge officers said the reason that you weren't here when all this kicked off, was that you were on medical leave."  
  
"Not really." Sam took a small sip of her drink and picked at a hardened glue spot on her borrowed boiler suit. "But I will be."  
  
McKay fingered the edge of his cup and chewed his lip. "What does your husband think of all this?"  
  
Sam glanced around, sharply. "Don't you know? He's been brainwashed and kidnapped by the Aschen. He's probably on their ship that is waiting to destroy us." She was amazed at herself that she kept her voice from shaking. Did she have no love left for her husband at all?  
  
McKay balked. "I...I'm sorry, I had no idea. Geez, does anyone tell me anything that is going on around here?"  
  
The sound of the launch klaxon made them both jump.  
  
"'Need to know', McKay, and, I guess I'm okay, thanks for asking." Sam drained her coffee, tossed the cup into the onboard macerator and went to stand at an observation window on the starboard side. She could see the access gangway being retracted as the sound of the engines increased in volume. A wan light suddenly illuminated the cavern and as Sam craned her neck, she could see the enormous roof of the complex sliding back. She felt a subtle change in the ship's internal atmosphere as the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity were brought on line. Loud metallic clangs indicated the docking clamps were being released. Sam reached up to fiddle with her Mother's necklace and as she peered out to see more, she spotted the tiny, but unmistakable figure of General Vidrine standing at one of the portakabin windows. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't spoken with her father, and felt a curious pang of regret. Every occasion that she said goodbye to him on the 'gate ramp, she wondered if it would be the last time.  
  
But this was different.  
  
She wanted one last moment with him. To say thank you. To say it was an honor and a privilege.  
  
To say that she loved him.  
  
********  
  
Jack stood to the starboard side of the 'Prometheus' bridge as the ship rose slowly out of its dark lair. "The Leviathan awakes," he muttered under his breath, as the lateral thrusters steadied the ascent.  
  
Teal'c coughed behind him. "I believe you are confusing your Greek mythology, O'Neill."  
  
The large wall mounted screen flooded the bridge with blood-red light from the setting sun.  
  
"Wise guy," Jack retorted.  
  
Colonel William Ronson turned to fix the two men with a pointed glare that had: 'Shut up,' stamped all over it.  
  
Teal'c turned back to Jack with a questioning look, as the Nevada landscape became a diminishing reality.  
  
"Time of the month," whispered Jack. He saw Erin Gant's shoulders shaking slightly and as she turned her blonde head to activate the navigator's Plexiglas panel, he could see she was smirking.  
  
The light subtly altered as the ship exited Earth's atmosphere. The ascent had taken less than thirty seconds.  
  
Gant leaned to activate another Plexiscreen. "Attention, attention! Stand by for broadcast! All hands, prepare for hyperspace. All hands, prepare for hyperspace!"  
  
The sound of the engines was changing, gaining in volume and intensity. There was a brilliant flash of mottled white light and a slight dragging feeling as the ship was thrust through the sublight hyperspace window.  
  
Pluto was only two hours away.  
  
********  
  
Just as the 'Prometheus' was exiting sublight, a sudden lurch sent Sam sprawling into the arms of McKay as he stood over an open crystal panel. A deafening collision alert alarm began to sound right above them. "Sorry, Major!" he yelled helplessly, as he struggled to disentangle himself.  
  
Sam attempted to regain her footing on the deck grating. "That's okay! You can get OFF me, now." She pushed hard against his arms, only to fall back into them when the ship pitched again.  
  
"What the hell is going *on* out there?" Half-staggering to the porthole and peered out, followed by McKay. They were in the middle of a debris field. Gargantuan rocks were buffeting the side of the ship and as Sam held tight, another bashed into the middle decks, like some bizarre game of cosmic curling.  
  
McKay craned his neck up. "What *is* this? A meteor storm?"  
  
Sam braced herself as the ship took another hit. "There's none charted out here. We should be seeing Charon." Another enormous piece of space debris impacted on the side of the vessel.  
  
McKay staggered back from the window, "That's no meteor storm! The reason why we can't see Charon is because that *is* Charon!" He pointed to the space rocks.  
  
Sam craned her neck out and up to follow McKay's outstretched arm – damn! He was *so* right. The collision was suddenly silenced as Gant's voice could be heard issuing orders over the PA. An abrupt change in the atmosphere indicated the artificial gravity was operating in overdrive as the ship banked sharply, presumably attempting to exit the debris field. The straining engines added to the stomach churning noise.  
  
"Debris inertia!" yelled McKay, as he was forced onto the deck.  
  
"I know, I know!" Sam shouted back. Grasping onto the walls, she felt resistance as she tried to reach the intercom. It was like walking through water! She braced herself against the bulkhead to punch in the code for the bridge. "Gant! Are you receiving me?"  
  
The young major's voice could just about be heard over the engines.  
  
"Pull power from the hyperdrive for the shields, we can't do it from down here!" Sam overheard a hubbub of background conversations on the bridge. "And cut the collision alert – we can't hear ourselves think!"  
  
Abruptly, there was silence. No engines, no klaxons, no impact noise, nothing except her own ragged panting.  
  
"Thank you," she said over the intercom as she watched McKay get to his feet and start checking himself for broken ribs. It would be funny if it weren't so serious. Sam risked a look out of the porthole. She could see fewer space rocks in her limited view. The enhanced shields were vaporizing those that were still close to the ship.  
  
Gant's intercom-thin voice broke through the silence. "Major Carter, Colonel Ronson requests your immediate presence on the bridge." She sounded nervous, but in control.  
  
"Copy that. On my way," confirmed Sam and trotted off to the elevators, with McKay tailing her heels.  
  
She stopped and could hear McKay pull up sharply to avoid cannoning into her back. She turned and sighed. Sam had a vision of a faithful puppy dog. "McKay, they asked for *me*."  
  
"Well, yes, but I thought you might need-"McKay began, earnestly.  
  
"You'll be the first I'll call, Rodney, I promise." Sam turned on what she knew was her best blinding smile and marched purposefully to the elevator just across the deck. As she entered and punched the button for the bridge, she noticed Mckay was staring at her forlornly. Now he was a *lost* puppy dog.  
  
"I promise," she repeated, as the doors closed. And so help her, she meant it.  
  
********  
  
Jack was relieved to see Carter step out from the elevator. Ronson's people made him nervous for some reason. Nothing against them; they just hadn't had a lot of time to bond as a team.  
  
Sam marched straight past him and stopped beside the center seat. "Colonel Ronson. Major Samantha Carter, reporting for duty, sir!" She snapped to attention with a smart salute. Jack smiled to himself. Well done, Carter, a few protocol reg. Brownie points there.  
  
Colonel Ronson turned from studying the view screen. "Welcome aboard, Major. Okay, I've diverted power from a vital primary system with two enemy ships off my starboard bow, now what?"  
  
Sam cleared her throat. "With all due respect, sir, the impact power of the debris due to spatial inertia would have undoubtedly resulted in a hull breach."  
  
"It seemed like bugs on a windshield to us." Ronson was quick, but not very good at playing the hard man.  
  
"Not from my vantage point, sir." Sam would not back down. Go Carter!  
  
Ronson eyed her warily. "Very well, Major. The situation is this: two enemy vessels, here and here." He indicated the monitor, where a graphical interface was displaying two red blips orbiting Pluto. "This one," he indicated the larger point, "is the Ha'tak. So far, there's no reaction to our presence from either of them. They could have attacked when we exited in the debris, but nothing. Any ideas?"  
  
Jack edged forward. He could see Ronson shoot him a look, but he said nothing.  
  
"They're after something, sir. Why else would they wait here? Why aren't they attacking Earth?" Sam narrowed her eyes as she appraised the enemy vessels' positions.  
  
Ronson nodded. "That's what we thought, but what?" He shrugged and frowned at the screen.  
  
He turned back again "And why blast Charon?"  
  
Jack's cough broke the silence. "Target practice."  
  
"*Target* practice," repeated Ronson, his voice testy.  
  
"Sure, target practice. They need to know their weapons are operational and accurate; compensating for planetary atmosphere *before* they blow us all to hell." Jack crossed his arms over the black regulation T-shirt, and BDU jacket 'borrowed' from clothing stores. "They're *Goa'uld*, Ronson. They *like* blowing things up."  
  
He could see Sam dip her head slightly to bite back a small grin.  
  
"Demonstration, show of power?" mused Ronson.  
  
Jack shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
"Okay, what-"began Ronson.  
  
"Sir!" Gant's young voice interrupted. "Receiving a visual transmission from the hostile ship."  
  
"Loudspeakers, monitor," commanded Ronson, as Sam immediately went to assist the officer manning the master communications console on the starboard side.  
  
A Jaffa-like figure filled the bridge monitor. Gold Mercedes emblem; first prime.  
  
"Reduce percentage view," requested Ronson, never taking his eyes off the alien. "I am Colonel William Ronson of the Earth ship 'Prometheus'. You have entered our Solar System without permission, and you are not welcome here, please leave immediately."  
  
Jack muttered under his breath. "Yeah, like *that'll* work." He could see Ronson's jaw clench. 'Okay, Jack, shutting up now,' he pledged.  
  
The Jaffa actually bowed a little. "We will comply with your request, but my master has come to collect what is rightfully his." He paused, as if receiving instructions off stage left. "The Lord Ba'al has come to reclaim his property." Jack peered at the transmitted image. Another monitor could be seen behind the Jaffa's shoulders, showing the Aschen ship. What was going on here?  
  
Ronson sat up straighter. "And what would that be?" he asked, levelly.  
  
The Jaffa's reply was succinct. "The human you call 'O'Neill'." He pointed via the view screen at Jack. "Him."  
  
Jack smiled slowly. This was turning out to be an interesting day. He could see Ronson swallow as he considered his response. "Our humanitarian beliefs hold kidnapping to be to an immoral assault, and we do not respond to threats. We will not comply with this request. Please leave our Solar System immediately, or we will be forced to take action."  
  
The Jaffa hesitated. A richly clad arm came into view and pushed the Jaffa out of the way. The 'man' turned. Dark eyes. Dark widows peak hair. Dark goatee beard. Ba'al. His eyes skittered over the scene, analyzing his own view screen. He sneered. "Is that the best humans could produce to defeat *me*." Mocking, superior, evil. Yup, that was Ba'al all right.  
  
"What pathetic standards an alliance with the Asgard brings." Ba'al continued in a scathing tone.  
  
Ronson dived in. "The protected planets treaty still stands. We have contacted them for assistance." He rubbed his hand against his suit leg.  
  
Jack groaned inwardly.  
  
Ba'al smiled again. "My dear Colonel, I have broken no treaty. I merely wish to reclaim my property. O'Neill is mine by forfeit. I wish you to release him now or I *will* be forced to destroy you. I witnessed your little problem with the remnants of this planet's moon. I do not wish to waste my time here."  
  
"Stall him!" hissed Jack. He could see the Colonel's head half turn.  
  
"I will need to consult my superiors," blustered Ronson.  
  
Ba'al smiled. Jack's stomach clenched as he pictured his own service knife being driven again and again into the bastard's face.  
  
"Very well. You have five of your Earth minutes to comply." Ba'al sneered and then bowed his head a little, a gesture that Teal'c sometimes adopted. To see that familiar, welcoming movement being employed by such a monster ate into Jack's tightly controlled rage. The Goa'uld made to step away from the teleball device that was transmitting his image. "Ah," he said, as if forgetting something. "I also require a 'Major Carter', for my friends that are off your stern."  
  
The screen went blank.  
  
Sam's head snapped up at the sound of her name. She made to step further onto the bridge, only to be stopped by Teal'c, who was standing nearby. He blocked her intention with a strong arm and pointed to the scanners; she couldn't be seen within the teleball's range.  
  
"End transmission," confirmed Gant into the silence that followed.  
  
Ronson stood up, his face set to stone, his gaze unwavering from the view screen. He seemed to snap out of it, and turned, expressionless, to Jack. "Colonel O'Neill, I need to see you and Major Carter in my ready room, now." He turned toward the communications station. "Locate Colonel Samuels and tell him to report here, on the double." He marched off towards his office, just off the bridge.  
  
Jack and Sam exchanged looks. As Jack proffered his hand out in a 'before you' gesture, Sam broke her gaze quickly and followed Ronson. Carter was chewing her lip and her usually pale skin was now almost blue, Jack noted. Stepping in behind her, he nodded to Teal'c, who followed behind him. With Carter doing her best, but still below par, it was reassuring to have the presence of the warrior around.  
  
No sooner was the office door closed, the Colonel turned. He did a double take when he saw that Teal'c was also present, but recovered himself and demanded: "Ideas, people. I need everything you've got on this hostile."  
  
"Well?" said Ronson into the silence. "I can't believe this whole mess is some sort of revenge mission by this Goa'uld. Surely they would only adopt a revenge based strategy if there was something in it for them?"  
  
Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. "You haven't met Ba'al. He's just had his ass kicked by Yu, and I think his boss is pissed at him, Anubis, that is. That *might* have been our - *my* - fault. It could well be revenge." Jack grimaced. "As for the Aschen wanting Carter..." his voice tailed off as he turned to look at Sam. She was standing to attention in front of Ronson. Although still pale, two bright red spots of color appeared on her cheeks.  
  
He continued. "Revenge may be a factor here also. Carter managed to thwart a sabotage attempt by the Aschen three years ago, with the assistance of Ambassador Faxon. It effectively cut off the Aschen's desire to raid Earth's resources. They seem civilized enough, but underneath, they're just as bad as the Goa'uld. 'We come, we see, we conquer your planet' sorta thing. In fact, I think they're worse, because they're so damn *sneaky* about it."  
  
Ronson nodded. "That was my assessment as well." Ignoring Teal'c clearing his throat, he persisted. "So, if this *is* all about revenge, what now?"  
  
Jack shrugged. "Hold them off until the Asgard get here."  
  
Ronson countered. "We have no idea how long that will be. What about a pre-emptive strike?"  
  
"Our current fire power is no match for them, sirs." Sam supplied.  
  
The two men turned to look at her. Her return stare did not falter.  
  
"Surely the Naquadah tipped warheads?" Ronson queried.  
  
Sam nodded. "With all due respect, sir, we would need a delivery system capable of by-passing the mothership's shields. We haven't quite got that at the moment. And we have little information about Aschen space craft, so I can't comment on that."  
  
Ronson let out an exasperated breath.  
  
"Carter," began Jack gently, "what do you mean 'We haven't quite got that at the moment'?"  
  
Sam paused. She fished in her pocket and brought out a small nut. Holding it between her thumb and her index finger, she regarded it for a moment. "Do you remember when you were a kid and you got to play the electric bass guitar at school? You would spend all your time trying to find the right noise to make the music stands vibrate?"  
  
Jack could see Ronson grinding his teeth. "Go on," he probed.  
  
"Well, before...before I was on leave, I was communicating with Area 51 and running experiments on utilizing sound frequencies to disrupt Mothership shield harmonics. It wouldn't take down an entire shield spread, but we found weak spots in the interference pattern-"  
  
"-That you can punch a hole through?" Jack finished.  
  
"Exactly!" confirmed Sam. The unguarded smile she gave him made his heart flip over.  
  
Ronson broke in. "How far has this research gotten?"  
  
"Not far," admitted Sam. "We have very little data on Mothership shield frequencies."  
  
Ronson nodded, his interest piqued. "Can you rig something on board? Take anyone you need."  
  
Sam nodded. "Right away, sir. I'll take McKay, Teal'c and a couple of the techs-"  
  
The ship was rocked violently as the dull sound of an explosion could be heard. The scramble for the door was crazy, with Teal'c beating everyone.  
  
"Report!" yelled Ronson as he rounded on Samuels who was sitting rigidly in the center seat.  
  
"The Goa'uld ship has commenced firing!" Samuels' voice betrayed his panic.  
  
"Raise them on the comm.!" yelled Ronson, as the ship was rocked by another explosion. "Ready the weapons!" he called to the weapons-defense station.  
  
"More incoming!"" barked Gant from the nav. consul. The monitor changed to show a tactical display. A pulsating red blip was heading straight toward them. Jack saw Teal'c grab onto a bulkhead and draw Sam into his chest. The deck pitched wildly as Ronson staggered over to stand behind the young lieutenant manning the weapons station. "Away torpedoes!" he yelled.  
  
Jack was transfixed by the view screen - a much larger blip was following the smaller one. Hail-Mary-Mother-of-God.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam wrench herself free of Teal'c and fly over to the communication station. She activated a panel and her voice reverberated around the deck.  
  
"ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT! I REPEAT, ALLHANDSBRACEFORIMPACT!"  
  
She spun her head around and caught his stare. He returned her gaze with a slow smile as chaos erupted around them. The sound of the explosion was deafening, much more so than the previous shots and the space rocks which had hit them earlier. The ship pitched and yawed as every master alarm sounded. Jack was dimly aware of Gant being thrown forward, her body smashing into the panel. He moved toward her. As he held fast to her seat, the lights dimmed, followed by two loud explosions on the deck. Jack immediately covered Gant's prone form with his own to protect her from the flying pieces of space ship that was raining down upon them. He turned his head to the side to see Teal'c was again shielding Carter, holding her face into his neck. An enormous explosion caused him to wince by instinct.  
  
The ship finally stopped jerking. Jack cautiously raised his head, aware of the cacophony of chaos.  
  
Black smoke was everywhere and the overhead lighting was out, but a flickering from the port side illuminated the bridge with flames.  
  
The weapons console was already a charred wreck, and the operating lieutenant had collapsed onto the panel and was on fire. Jack scrambled toward the station. Someone grabbed an extinguisher and was tackling the blaze. Jack hitched his jacket over his fists and diving towards the burning man, he yanked his body back.  
  
Sightless eyes gazed up at him from a ruined bloodied face, a deep, jagged gash in his neck revealing the spine.  
  
O'Neill's heart lurched as he looked about for Ronson.  
  
"Under here, sir!" shouted another young officer; it was Hailey. She was tugging frantically at a piece of bulkhead. Suddenly, strong black arms came around her as Teal'c lifted up the jagged metal.  
  
Ronson was lying face up on the deck. His eyes were also open, but his face was untouched. A cleaver of metal was sticking out from his chest. Two breaths, and it was over.  
  
********  
  
Sam could hardly get the words out over the sound of the extraction filters coming from the bridge. "Sir! You can't go! This plan is madness - he'll kill you!"  
  
The Colonel folded his arms and at the same time shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be a 'Miss-glass-half-empty', Carter. Besides, we don't really have a choice."  
  
Samuels coughed. The filters were still working overtime to clear the smoke that had seeped into Ronson's ready room, however Teal'c seemed unaffected.  
  
"Sir, he will subject you to torture, kill you anyway, then destroy us. It's suicide." Sam was keeping her voice controlled, but her heart was hammering.  
  
Jack sighed and twisted his face into the familiar grimace that meant: I'm doing this. Her heart stopped thumping and started sinking.  
  
"Carter, if I go, I may buy you some time to get this bucket moving. If I stay, the next shot will finish us. We're sitting ducks. There is no debate about this, and it's time I went." The Colonel uncrossed his arms and straightened his back. He nodded towards Samuels. "Time for plan E." The two men locked eyes as Jack breezed past him onto the bridge.  
  
Sam let her head shake and followed with resignation. Pushing aside her burbling dread, she mentally pushed up her sleeves. There was still a lot of work to do. The crew was clearing the worst of the debris to one side as Ronson was being lifted into a body bag. The young lieutenant's body had already been removed. His name was David.  
  
The final explosion had overloaded and blown out the crystal relays. Currently, the propulsion systems were off line. McKay was coughing under a panel, clutching a flashlight. With a quick look at the Colonel's retreating back, she turned her attention to the immediate problems: weapons, defense and propulsion. Hit back and run like hell. She hunkered down beside McKay.  
  
"These relays are shot," McKay pointed to the burnt out components. "But we can link these CDC's through the cluster modules into that sub section." He nodded to the pilot's station.  
  
"How long?" asked Sam, noting that a white-faced Gant was back at her station with a dressing over her nose. "How can I help?"  
  
"Ten minutes for propulsion and you can help by getting *me* a cup of coffee. This is easy-peasy." McKay was already pulling out the carbonized apparatus.  
  
"Weapons?" queried Sam, picking over some of the debris.  
  
"Nope," he puffed, tugging on a stubborn motherboard.  
  
"No weapons?" Did they have nothing with which to defend themselves? The main view screen was operational again and the Ha'tak was looming now off the port bow, and a smaller view inset displayed the Aschen ship that was blocking their rear.  
  
McKay sighed pointedly. "Yeah, like our torpedoes would do *so* well against our pissed-off buddies out there."  
  
Through the organized chaos of staff busying to and fro, Sam dimly heard Gant clearing the F302 for launch. He was going to do it. She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of her anxiety. "What about the warheads? You were working on the mothership shield resonating frequencies three months ago; how far did you get?"  
  
McKay sat back on his heels. "Pretty well, thanks for asking. But, Sam, that's irrelevant when they can be flown in by a glider when their shields are down."  
  
Sam pulled her head back. "What?"  
  
McKay nodded toward the view screen. The Colonel's glider was executing a graceful and controlled arc towards the Ha'tak.  
  
"What?!" Sam repeated; realization was dawning. She opened her mouth again, but nothing would come out.  
  
Finally she croaked out: "Colonel O'Neill is flying in a booby-trapped glider?"  
  
McKay cocked an eyebrow at her. "Didn't you know? We kitted it out before you arrived. O'Neill knew it would probably come to this."  
  
McKay's words were barely registering.  
  
The Colonel was flying to his death, and he knew it, but didn't tell her. Did all the men in her life betray her? Well, this one wasn't going to get away with it again.  
  
"McKay, when you're finished with propulsion, I need your help in glider bay two A-SAP," she said, and strode towards the exit.  
  
******  
  
'Jack O'Neill, this is the dumbest idea you have ever had.' Nope, Didn't work. 'Jack O'Neill, you're an ass.' Well, Daniel would like that one. What about: 'class A, could win prizes, all out *jerk*?' Yup. That one would do. Jack seemed to recall saying that to himself right before Sam's wedding. He didn't tell her how he really felt then either.  
  
Completing his approach alignment, he silenced the shield proximity alarm and prayed he wouldn't be vaporized before the whole damn thing was blown up. Jack maneuvered the F-302 carefully toward the yawning maw of the Ha'tak's glider bay; his concentration interrupted by a disembodied metallic voice that said the human ship was on the correct approach vector. "No flags or flowers?" he grinned to himself as he settled the hybrid craft on the deck to await the welcoming committee. He took a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings in case of a close-quarter retreat. Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?  
  
The hanger was ten times the size of the 'gate room, spartanly decorated in Goa'uld gray. The F-302 was the only craft in sight, which Jack thought was decidedly odd; this space could take several death gliders – where were they? The utilitarian entrance door in front of him slid back revealing two serpent guards and six servant Jaffa. "Hello, boys," Jack waved. As he climbed out the cockpit, he feigned some difficulty and managed to reach in and activate a concealed timer and set the stopwatch on his Omega. 500 Naquadah enhanced megatons shielded with Asgard technology. 60 Minutes. Tick tock.  
  
He climbed carefully down from the F-302, only to be pushed forward towards the door by the head guard, whom he recognized from the earlier transmission. "Take me to your leader thing, yeah?" That earned him a sharp dig in the back. "Love what you've done with the place," Jack continued. The guard thrust his hand forward. "March?" he smirked. "Sure. This way?" He endured another jab into the small of his back. "I'm marching, I'm marching." With one last look at the SGC's equivalent of a Trojan Horse he complied with the guard's instructions, noting the route they took.  
  
Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?  
  
******  
  
McKay groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time. "This is not gonna work, Sam," he complained, hovering under the F-302's wing base.  
  
"Can it, Rodney and pass me that laptop, it's got the shield frequency modulation data on it," she gestured frantically to the deck behind him. "And hurry, for God's sake, before Samuels twigs what's happening." Her heart was pounding again as she accepted the computer and began to connect up the rear USB ports. She pushed her hair back from her sweating forehead.  
  
"Sam, please. If you get hurt, Jack's gonna kill me." Rodney was whining again. "And then he'll bring me back to life, only to kill me over and over."  
  
Sam's hands stilled and she stared at McKay. Did he know? How could he? She turned her gaze to Teal'c, standing by the wheelbase. He nodded. Ba'al would do this to Jack if he had the chance.  
  
McKay was now pacing, wringing his hands. "But O'Neill will have set the timer, we've only got an hour to get the hell out of this space before the Big Bang."  
  
Sam hastily tucked the wires back into the cockpit and checked her hand weapons before climbing carefully onto the wing. Teal'c raised his arms to lift her tenderly down to the deck.  
  
"Well then, better go and tell Sparky he's got his thrusters back so he can run away," Sam spat bitterly. "I'm not leaving the Colonel on that ship if there is any chance he will survive. You don't know what Ba'al did to him the last time. Have you got a pair of scissors?" she demanded.  
  
"Well, why can't Teal'c go? And why scissors?" McKay's eyes were bulging as he fiddled in his pockets. He produced a large Swiss army knife and began to pull out various tools. The intercom was requesting 'Major Carter's immediate presence on the bridge'.  
  
"You know why; Teal'c isn't familiar with the frequency modulation technology, I am. You know the technology, but you can't fly the glider. I can do both. QED." She snatched the army knife out of McKay's hands and bent over at the waist. Pulling her hair into her fist and twirling, she began to cut through her tangled blonde tresses at the twist. "Just keep Samuels out of the way, that's all I ask." Sam straightened up and thrust the knife and her amputated ponytail into McKay's astonished fingers.  
  
Shaking her butchered tresses out, she nodded to Teal'c. They locked gazes. A myriad of unspoken dignities passed between them. "Time to go," whispered Sam.  
  
"Good luck, MajorCarter," said the warrior, and with a grace that surprised her, lifted her as though she weighed nothing onto the glider wing. "Success in our endeavor."  
  
Sam reached down to touch her friend's cheek and smiled. "Indeed."  
  
Teal'c and McKay stepped back into the pressurized control room as she quickly donned her helmet, clambered into the front seat and readied the F- 302 for launch. Through the observation window, she could see Teal'c operating the internal forcefields and watched with relief as the hanger bay doors drew back. As she elevated the ship from the deck, she spied Samuels bursting through the control room doorway and waving his arms about.  
  
"My career is over. Again," Sam mused, as the glider shot away from the bay doors into space.  
  
******  
  
Jack clenched his jaw and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. In and out. Out and in. He could do this. All he had to do was keep him chatting until *boom*.  
  
He was standing in a small room off the Pel'tac of the ship, just him and Ba'al, and two serpent guards. Cosy. In and out. Out and in.  
  
Ba'al was circling, smirking and silent. He stopped in front of Jack and stared straight into his eyes. He was so close, Jack could almost feel his breath and he fought the urge to retch. Cold slits of obsidian were dominating his range of vision, so he focused on the deep crease above the bastard's nose. It was unusually defined, and there was a small flaw under the skin... concentrate... tick tock.  
  
"I am glad to meet you again, Colonel. We have some unfinished business." Ba'al smirked.  
  
Bowie knife. In and out. Out and in.  
  
"Come, now, Colonel. No banal expressions of pleasure? No platitudes of gratitude? Tsk, tsk. Humans are so dull, and have no dress sense whatsoever." Ba'al reached behind him and withdrew a dagger, evidently hidden in his waistband. He sighed slowly and turned the blade of the weapon to catch the flickering torches that illuminated the room.  
  
Jack's heart began to beat a lot faster. There were three notches along the blade and the hilt was striated – it must be part of the same set from before. Those daggers had haunted his nightmares for months, no matter how hard he had tried to forget. He had checked to see if the magnetic gate was present as soon as he walked in the room and it hadn't. What was he planning?  
  
Okay. Keep him talking. "Say, buddy, what's with the 'I' pronoun? I thought you Goa'uld use the Royal 'we'? I mean, that's *so* pretentious, don't you think? Are you one of those progressive Goa'ulds that like to get closer to their subjects, to-"  
  
Fuck. The bastard could move fast. The knife was pointing three inches away from his eye. Jack swallowed carefully.  
  
Ba'al smiled again and twisted the knife hilt in his outstretched fist, causing slivers of light to slither up and down the blade. "Do not be impudent, O'Neill. I have patience, as you know, but it is not unlimited."  
  
Jack shifted his head back a fraction. "Okay. But can I ask a question?"  
  
Ba'al didn't move. "I do not know, can you?" The arm abruptly lowered, and Jack released a breath slowly through his teeth.  
  
Ignore him, ignore...tick tock. "Why am I here?"  
  
"Why do you think?" Ba'al smirked.  
  
"You want to stick a nasty bug inside me to get loads of stuff about Earth's defenses?" It was worth a try, but judging by the non-plussed expression that briefly appeared on Ba'al's sneering face and then was masked, he was hitting wide of the mark. "Just checking."  
  
Okay, okay, one down. "Revenge for Shalan?" Jack hazarded a guess.  
  
The knife was scraped along the black tunic, mimicking the action of a kitchen knife against a whetstone. "A mere female – a slave of no consequence."  
  
Hmm. His nonchalance wasn't that good. All this for a woman? He couldn't let this die. "You had no intention of destroying Earth, did you? This is all one big play to get *me*. Did you plan the hit on PX-thing, Amzawee, to get at me? That's why you've got no death gliders on board-"  
  
"SILENCE!" Ba'al yelled. It was the first time in their lengthy 'sessions' together that Jack had ever heard Ba'al raise his voice.  
  
If this was all some sort of case of misplaced revenge, the leaders of Earth could be still be duped into thinking an all-out attack was imminent. After the earlier light show, they might agree to anything without the protection of the Asgard. In for a penny. "What the hell is all this with the Aschen? Why are they involved?"  
  
The blade flashed and the knife was at his throat. "I repeat; silence," hissed Ba'al.  
  
He gestured sharply to the attendant guards. They strode over in tandem, as if part of some bizarre dance troupe. Grabbing Jack's arms, they began to drag him away. Jack yelled over his shoulder "You've got nothing, have you? You had no intention of attacking Earth! Jesus! All this for revenge!" He twisted his neck to get a better view of the bastard Goa'uld. He was staring after Jack with a thunderous look.  
  
He had to warn Earth! He had to get a message to the 'Prometheus'!  
  
Jack jerked his arms downwards, and incredibly, he was free. Losing no time, he made off down the corridor back toward the glider bay, cursing his knees.  
  
He thought he heard a metallic clang behind him, and ducking behind a bulkhead was the last thing he remembered before the world went black.  
  
********  
  
Sam still couldn't believe she wasn't floating in a zillion pieces by now. Why wasn't she being fired upon? Completing a pass around the stern of the Goa'uld ship, she snapped on the autopilot and quickly typed some figures from the external sensors into the laptop. The monitor dissolved into a shield frequency modulation simulation.  
  
Damn! Why wasn't it working? She peered closely at the interference pattern displayed. Virtual Red stress lines pulsated around virtual white centers, like the magnetic lines between planetary poles. Sam upped the frequency of the sound harmonic generator and fired the boosted signal towards the Ha'tak again. The undulations spread outwards like ripples on a pond, but as fast as Sam was positioning the F-302 to fly in, the pattern was settling.  
  
She stared at the screen. Something looked familiar.. so familiar! It pricked at the back of her mind as she re-ran the analysis.  
  
"Ripples on a pond!" She blurted out loud. The memory of the lake near the Colonel's cabin swam into her head. She reset some co-ordinates, babbling as she did so. "Just plunk it in and the waves die. You have to skip the stones to set the whole pond off. Thank you, Colonel!"  
  
Her fingers skimmed over the keys, making the adjustments to the harmonics program. Her forefinger hesitated for a second over the 'enter' key. Click. She watched the laptop as the undulating patterns grew stronger and more erratic – green spots were appearing – the shield tactical was pockmarked with holes! It would work! Angling an offset approach vector towards the glider bay she had seen the Colonel fly into, she ground her teeth and changed the view to 'heads up' as the ship shot towards the nearest green blip she could see. If she misjudged by a few meters, the shielding could possibly rip off the wings. Bye, bye, Sam. Thanks for all the dialing programs. The green blip on the heads up display view began to shrink, but there was no way she was slowing her velocity; she was *so* doing this! And...she was through! She was through on the other side of the Ha'tak shield, going too damn fast. Sam's hands were white on the helm as the F-302's angle finally softened and she begin flying parallel to the enemy vessel, instead of perpendicular to it.  
  
Five minutes later, she landed the glider next to Colonel O'Neill's in a deserted hanger.  
  
Where was everybody?  
  
*******  
  
Oh. My. God.  
  
Jack lay still for a moment. He knew the drill with a shock grenade; lie still and his head wouldn't hurt *too* much and the eyesight would come back. At least he wasn't dead. Yet.  
  
He moved onto his right side to determine his situation.. and groaned. Oh, this was the worse it had ever been. His head was pounding and the only visual thing he could detect were some dull patches of light above him. Probably those fire torches the Goa'ulds *loved* to decorate their ships with. Damn stupid idea...  
  
"Jack."  
  
Jack's head snapped to the sound, even though he couldn't see a thing. The voice sounded slightly familiar, if a bit strange. Only one way to find out. "Hi," he replied.  
  
The answer was just a grunt, a kinda sick-sounding grunt.  
  
A man grunt. Younger than him. "Jesus! Is that you, Joe?" Jack demanded. This was too weird.  
  
"Yeah." Definitely ill.  
  
Jack stretched out with his left arm and waved it in the air. "Well, give us a hand up and report your situation. Why aren't you on the Aschen ship? And what the hell do you want with Sam?" He could still only see residuals.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Come on, Joe, stop being a prick and get me up, I can get you out of here." He waved his arm wildly and suddenly came into contact with a fabric covered leg. It was like touching a corpse. "Joe?"  
  
The voice gasped a breath before responding. "I can't help you. I think my spine is severed. I'm paralyzed. I was hit with the blunt end of a staff weapon as I tried to escape - I can't move my arms or my legs." The breathing became more labored. Crap.  
  
Jack pulled up his own protesting legs and half rolled on top of them. He managed to move on all fours to where he thought Joe's head was. "What happened with the Aschen?"  
  
"Mind control," the voice rasped. "At least, I think so. Mowlem wanted Sam; they have this revenge subculture, and they used me. They've been putting things in my head – it hurts!" There was more wheezing before: "After P3A-194, Mowlem was ostracized. He hooked up with Ba'al to get to Earth and the SGC. Then they sent me here. Jack!"  
  
"I'm here, I'm here," confirmed Jack. "But where the hell are you?"  
  
"Here."  
  
"I know that." It was like talking to Daniel!  
  
"Is Sam safe?" The voice sounded genuinely concerned.  
  
What should he say? "She's not here, if that's what you mean. But why the fuck do you care? You nearly destroyed her, you bastard."  
  
He heard a sob. "I know. Will you tell Sam that I love her? Tell her that she's a good person, and I never *ever* wanted to hurt her."  
  
Jack couldn't stop himself. "Well, you did." Memories of Sam crying her eyes out invaded his thoughts. "Believe me, you did."  
  
"I know." Now the tone was regretful and filled with pain. "I remember most of what I did."  
  
Jack heard more sobbing. Oh, man. He could hear the other man gasping as he continued. "I could never compete with you."  
  
Enough – tick tock. "Listen, Joe – Ambassador – I can get you out of here, I could probably carry you, but you'll have to tell me where I'm going, a shock grenade has blown my light fuse." Wait. They'd left him with his wristwatch. Hadn't these guys ever *seen* James Bond? "Ambassador, can you see my watch?" He hitched his arm in what he hoped was the correct position for Faxon's eye line. "What does it say? Huh? Can you read it?"  
  
He could hear swallowing. "13:03"  
  
Shit! Thirteen minutes left before the Big Bang. He felt around for Faxon's arm. "Okay, Ambassador, time to go."  
  
"Leave me. I'll slow you down. I think the main hanger is left out of here, and I can't see any guards. I think the door is locked anyway." Now all Jack could hear was defeat. He was pretty certain that Joe still felt something for Sam. If that was the case, she might still love him. She must have done once, to marry the guy. Jack ruefully reasoned he had no right to Samantha Carter anyway. The decision was made.  
  
He hitched Faxon's right arm around his left shoulder. "Well, considering I don't even know where *here* is, I kinda need you to look at the lock. Besides, I can't leave you to die, it keeps happening, and you wouldn't believe the paperwork."  
  
With a supreme effort, Jack hoisted the dead weight onto his shoulders...and fell flat on his face with Faxon pinning him down.  
  
Round one.  
  
********  
  
Sam was pacing the corridors as rapidly as she dared. She had encountered no one. Absolutely NO ONE. What was going on? The Ha'tak should have been teeming with Jaffa, Goa'uld hangers on, slaves, and all and sundry. The ship was deserted, as far as she could tell. Furthermore, as she traversed the corridors, it was evident that the craft was barely out of the construction dock. Large sections of the bulkheads were mere shells, devoid of the rich decoration that customarily adored Goa'uld vessels and building debris littered the floors.  
  
She consulted the handheld homing device that McKay had given to her just before launch. It was his idea to fit beacons into the Colonel's shoes and wristwatch, so unless the Jaffa had stripped Jack completely, he was very close by, as the signal was strong and steady.  
  
Jack. She had done it again. *Not* Jack. COLONEL. *Not* Jack. Minnesota was just a dream, a memory. It was business as usual and if she didn't keep her mind on the job, she would be dog food over the Ha'tak's walls. She gripped her Zat harder and checked the devise. 20 meters aft. Conscious that time could be critical, she risking running the remainder of the way down the corridor – and rounded on one of the bizarrest scenes she had ever encountered, and she had encountered a few.  
  
Her estranged husband was lying on top of her friend and commander. She couldn't help it; she gaped. Finding her voice, she choked out: "Sir! Joe!" Yeah, Sam, dead eloquent. After checking the corridor in both directions, she fired the Zat at close quarters to the paneled door lock. Horrified at the noise, she was relieved when the activation light dimmed. She was across the threshold, abandoned the homing devise and risked laying her weapon on the floor to assess the men's conditions. Checking for Joe's pulse, it was erratic and it was obvious something was wrong with his neck; it was badly bruised and not quite straight. A sting of fear shivered down her spine as she briefly wondered if he was implanted with a symbiote, but she couldn't detect any traces of Naquadah.  
  
"Carter?" The Colonel's voice was muffled.  
  
"Yes, sir. Hold still while I move.. the Ambassador." She chanced moving Joe, as it was obvious he had been turned repositioned already. Hooking her arms under his, she kept his head as straight as she could while gently shifting him off Colonel O'Neill and onto the floor, taking care to keep his face downwards.  
  
He groaned. Although the noise wasn't familiar to her, the tone was. "Joe?" she asked tentatively. The next sound sent her heart racing even faster, if that were possible.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Oh dear God, give me the strength. "Yes, it's me, lie still, you've got a neck injury." He was still wearing his suit pants and dress shirt from home.  
  
His head twisted awkwardly. "I know; I'm paralyzed. Help Colonel O'Neill."  
  
"I'll help you both, but lay still, please." Her hands were already running down the Colonel's spine. His arm curled out from where it was trapped beneath him.  
  
"Carter, get me the hell up. Your husband's injured and I'm blinded by a shock grenade." Sam gritted her teeth and cautiously helped him to sit up, curling her arm around his back. Suddenly, his left arm was thrust out under her nose. "What time does it say?"  
  
Sam's dismay at the men's injuries was put aside as she studied the watch stop clock. "11:45," she stated.  
  
The Colonel nodded. An odd gesture as there was no eye contact with her. "My hand, sir," she offered, grasping his wrists. He was on his feet quickly, his hands on her shoulders.  
  
"I want to have a serious talk with you as to just what you are doing here, but we have eleven minutes to get a message to the 'Prometheus', did you fly in?" The Colonel was all business.  
  
"Yes, sir." She could do business.  
  
He dropped his right arm. "Where did you park?"  
  
Her mouth twitched up into a grin. "Next to you." She began to shrug off her jacket and roll it tightly lengthwise.  
  
"You need to get back and send Intel off to say Ba'al's plans to destroy Earth are a total phony. He's got no intention of attacking us, and it looks like the Aschen are just along for-"  
  
"Sir!" Sam interjected. "I know that already, but there's no time! I would have to take off to send a message, and there isn't enough time to get back here - the Ha'tak shield prevents signals getting through; I tried that earlier." She began to wrap the jacket carefully around her husband's neck, taking care not to move it too much.  
  
"So don't come back." Jack's face was a mask.  
  
Sam snapped her head back. "What?"  
  
"Don't-"  
  
Sam interrupted again – he would *so* have her ass for this. "Don't even go there! That's why I'm here, and we're standing here arguing while the clock is ticking. Now are you gonna help me, *sir*?" She grabbed his hands and pulled them downwards to the floor where Joe was lying. "Can you feel that shoulder? You take his left, and I'll get the other side; you're both coming with me."  
  
The Colonel wasted no time; once he had made a decision, he went for it; so much like her Dad. Joe's arms were hoisted around carrying shoulders.  
  
Jack grunted with the effort. They took a few shuffling steps with Joe slumped between them.  
  
"Sir, can you manage?" Sam huffed out. Joe's head lolled alarmingly onto her shoulder. "I think he's passed out."  
  
The Colonel grunted. "Just keep going, Carter."  
  
"Yes, sir," confirmed Sam through gritted teeth. "Two way seat?" she hissed, wondering if that would be easier.  
  
Jack grumbled again. "Keep going."  
  
They made slow progress up the corridor. It was obvious the Colonel was still suffering the after effects of the shock grenade, and Sam already knew her muscles were too soft from sitting on her ass so much. Joe was a complete dead weight between them. The tips of his Brookes Bros. shoes made a scrapping noise on the floor and the height difference between his carriers ensured that his body was jogged about rather roughly. Twisting her head over Joe's arm, she could actually see the Colonel's wristwatch readout clearly - 10:37. Swinging around a bend, her peripheral vision caught two Jaffa raising a staff weapon and a Zat respectively. She frantically retreated back around the corner, nearly pulling the Colonel over in the process.  
  
"Enemy at one o'clock, sir!" she yelled over the exploding weapons fire, as she offloaded her husband as gently as she could onto the floor.  
  
"I gathered that Major!" yelled the Colonel, crouching down as Joe was lowered. "Situation report?!"  
  
Sam grabbed his T-shirt and pulled him down further over the prone figure as a staff blast caught the edge of a bulkhead corner. She held onto his head as she assessed the situation.  
  
"Sitrep?" Jack repeated over more weapons fire.  
  
"Two enemy, three o'clock, blocking our retreat. We're right opposite an open access crawlspace and we're above the hanger." She released and primed her Zat, and let off a volley to keep the Jaffa busy. The only other weapons she was carrying were a standard issue 9mm and two grenades 'borrowed' from the armory aboard the 'Prometheus'. Crap, this wouldn't last long.  
  
The Colonel cocked his head listening for sounds of the approaching enemy. With him still kneeling on all fours, Sam wildly mused he resembled a faithful puppy.  
  
"That does it, Carter, get to the crawlspace, I'll cover you. Give me the Zat-"his words were cut off by another staff blast above their heads.  
  
Sam shook the debris from her hair. "Not without you, sir!" she yelled, returning fire. An alarm began to sound; a persistent bone crunching wail.  
  
The Colonel was scrunching up his eyes and feeling forward. "Our position's been made; you are the only one capable of retreat, so DO IT! That's an order! I'll stay with the Ambassador, give me the Zat!" he repeated.  
  
A groan from between them made them both look down, even though it was obvious the Colonel's vision was still bad. "Leave me," croaked out Joe.  
  
Jack grimaced. "We've had this convo, sir. No can do. Carter, what the hell are you waiting for?"  
  
Sam looked at him; he was blinded and essentially helpless. Then at her husband, pathetic and weak. The only two men she had ever really loved as men. She couldn't leave them. So help her, she would rather die with them, orders be damned; Sam Carter had followed them too damn long anyway. She fired another Zat volley.  
  
"Carter?" His questioning voice came from behind her.  
  
"She won't go, Jack, you know that." Joe's voice.  
  
"What's the time?" Jack's voice, slightly desperate.  
  
"8:27." Joe, resigned. She fired off another volley as one of the Jaffa made a move to advance. He cowered back.  
  
"Make her go."  
  
"She's *your* wife! You make her!"  
  
This was so funny. Her CO and her husband arguing over her. Weird shit. More weapons fire. Damn, she could be across the gap in two strides and down to safety in minutes. Then Joe spoke again.  
  
"Samantha, I love you."  
  
Her hand stilled on the Zat trigger for a second. Please, Joe, not this.  
  
"Don't die for me, I'm sure as hell not worth it." His voice was steadier that time.  
  
Sam risked turning her head around. Her husband's soft brown eyes locked onto hers and in an instant, she saw pain and fear and longing there. And something else. Resolution. It was over. It was all over.  
  
She swallowed. "I have two grenades," she said simply, and fired an aimless shot to keep the Jaffa busy. Joe nodded clumsily and looked toward the Colonel who was crouching next to her. She understood. Firing another volley she yelled to Jack above the noise. "Colonel, we need to advance two meters, twelve o'clock from where you're facing, and then climb downwards on rungs. No arguments, on three, got that?"  
  
"The Ambassador?" Jack began feeling about.  
  
"No arguments!" she repeated. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was not looking in her husband's eyes.  
  
Jack's brows creased, but he nodded and felt his way up the wall to a partially standing position. Sam pulled out the first grenade and balanced it between her knees as she crouched. Pulling out the second, she could see Joe watching her every move. She pulled the pin out with her teeth; she knew there was a reason she had watched all those WW2 movies as a kid.  
  
"One.."  
  
The Colonel braced himself as she fired the Zat and threw the grenade down the corridor toward the enemy.  
  
"Two.."  
  
Sam pulled out the other pin and dropped into her husband's unresponsive palm. He smiled at her.  
  
"THREE!"  
  
Grabbing the Colonel and dragging him over Joe, she pelted for the opening and reached it just as the first grenade exploded, scattering more debris about them. Grasping Jack's hands, she slapped his fingers onto the rungs and mercifully, he got the idea and began to climb rapidly downwards. She followed as closely as she dared, hand under hand. Where was the second explosion? She could hear the shouts of a Jaffa; at least one must have survived. They were sitting ducks in this hole!  
  
Then it happened. The noise was deafening, channeled into the chamber and more Ha'tak was raining on them. "I loved you too, Joe," she breathed as suddenly, her feet hit bottom. Jack reached out for her.  
  
"I can see your shape!" He coughed dust, his silvery hair almost white with powder.  
  
"Great!" snarked Sam and yanked up his left arm. 5:15. Tick tock. "Five minutes, sir! Hang on!" She snatched up his hand and pulled him as she began to sprint across the deck. No enemy interception? Definitely weird. By the time they reached her F-302, Jack was leading her; it was obvious his vision was returning. He scrambled gracelessly up onto the fighter wing, aided by Sam's punt on his ass and immediately stretched down towards her. She awkwardly placed the Colonel into the navigator's seat before climbing into the pilot's position, flicking the flight controls as she did so. Perhaps they might make it out alive. Just as the overhead canopy slid home, a staff blast shot by her head. Or perhaps not.  
  
As the shielding came on line, she eyed the aircraft's twin sitting next to them in the hanger. Tick tock. She was airborne, maneuvering the craft about as it elevated from the deck and away from the enemy.  
  
"SITREP?!" yelled the Colonel from behind her.  
  
As she headed towards the hanger doors, she replied, "With all due respect, sir, SHUT UP!" Sam could swear she heard chuckling coming from behind her. The maw was closing! She banked the glider sharply to port and heard the Colonel suck in a breath. The walls of the hanger became a blur as the craft streaked towards freedom. Stray staff blasts were pelting the wall and impacting on the closing exit in front of her. She applied more thrust and momentarily narrowed her eyes, assessing the gap. She was banking too hard and adjusted the angle, trying not to over-compensate...  
  
...the light patterns shifted – the craft was flying outside the Ha'tak. She blinked as a buzzing noise confirmed they were now passing through the Goa'uld shielding. Snapping the internal view screen onto the reverse angle, she pumped the glider for all it was worth. What the hell was the time? Surely the detonation mark had been reached? A flicker of light in the viewer caught her eye; they were being fired upon! She dropped the glider as severely as she could and felt the seat begin to rattle underneath her.  
  
"Carter!" the Colonel choked out from behind her.  
  
"Incoming!" yelled Sam as she tried to steady the craft. "Can you reach your restraints?" She turned into a steep incline and she could almost *feel* the inertial dampeners straining to compensate as the G-forces pushed her further back into the seat.  
  
Odd - there was light coming from somewhere. She risked a glance at the rear-angle. A surreal red and orange flower was growing from the center of the Ha'tak, blossoming with deadly intent.  
  
The shock wave hit them four seconds later, and for a moment Sam thought it was finished. She wasn't flying the ship any longer; more like hanging on for dear life as it spun helplessly across space. Debris from the Ha'tak buffeted the fuselage and the master alarms were deafening.  
  
Her mind began to spin as the Universe lazily pitched and yawed. It was kind of fun, like a fairground ride. Her eyes drifted shut, and she could feel something warm trickling down her forehead and down into her right eyebrow. Thinking it might be blood, she remembered to keep her eyes closed. Then she became aware of warm fingers on the right side of her neck and realized that the fingers were feeling for a pulse.  
  
"S'okay, Sir, I'm okay" she said, although to her ears it was more of a mumble. "You okay?" she asked, trying to turn to see the Colonel, still sitting in the navigator's position behind her.  
  
"Yeah, hold still; I can feel you've got a scalp wound. What have I told you about buckling up?"  
  
He drifted into darkness. She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Sam?"  
  
With a start, she jolted upright and fought to regain control of her senses as well as the bucking ship. Becoming alert and assessing the situation, she could see the debris spreading exponentially from the blast site.  
  
"Thrusters at station keeping, sir. The Ha'tak appears to be completely destroyed. I think it helped that it wasn't fully constructed."  
  
Sam could almost see the Colonel smile. "Good. What about the Aschen?" He said it 'ashen' in true Jack-style; it always made her grin with his total disregard for proper pronunciation of the enemy names. She screwed her neck around to watch the long Aschen craft disappear into hyperspace and an Asgard ship just coming into view off their port bow.  
  
"Gone. And Thor's here." She was tired now. Thoughts of Joe were surfacing. No, she thought, not yet.  
  
She heard him breathing quite close to her right ear. "Come on, Carter, there's no place like home."  
  
Smiling thinly, Sam angled the craft towards the 'Prometheus'. "Yes, sir."  
  
********  
  
The journey back to Earth was uneventful. They docked with the 'Prometheus' to be met by a stony-faced Samuels, a jubilant McKay and a happily stoic Teal'c. Sam's head wound wasn't serious and she spent the return voyage directing orders concerning the remainder of the bridge repairs with McKay. Jack assumed command being the most senior officer on board, and checked in on her progress. Judging by the detailed summaries she was giving him, she was fine. When he overheard her arguing with McKay over something called a 'duplex spanning tree', he knew it for sure.  
  
Jack ensured that everyone was kept busy so they had no time to dwell on their dead colleagues; there was an air of quiet respect, but also the satisfaction of a job well done. The Ha'tak threat, minimal though it turned out, was gone, and the Aschen obviously understood they had bitten off more than they could chew when they saw the Asgard. Perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to throw their lot in with the Goa'uld. For the time being, anyway.  
  
Lt.Col. Samuels wisely maintained his distance (Teal'c had told Jack that Sam disobeyed orders) and spent most of the time at the communications station, relaying information back to the SGC and Nevada Control. Much to Jack's amusement, Teal'c spent quite a bit of time in close proximity to 'Sparky', just to royally piss him off.  
  
The pre-disembarkation de-brief was mercifully short, actually thanks to Samuels' comms. Jack, Sam and Teal'c ended up being the last of the mission personnel to leave the 'Prometheus' hanger. When they stepped out into the bright Nevada sunshine, Sam was thrilled to be met by her father. Jacob had been contacted by General Hammond regarding the latest scrape his daughter had gotten into, and upon his arrival at the SGC, both men had decided an 'assessment exercise' to Area 51 was in order.  
  
Jack let Sam have her time with her Dad, but he knew she was going to have to deal with a number of issues in the coming weeks. Although she seemed to be the old happy Sam again, so much had happened over the last year, he wasn't sure if she would be able to soak it up as in the past.  
  
She would need good friends.  
  
He would be one of them.  
  
********  
  
Party music from the room filtered out to the verandah as Sam sipped slowly at her beer. The view from General Hammond's rear patio was absolutely lovely, especially in the warm of a summers evening, as now. She glanced up at the moon, waxing onto its third quarter, cool and at peace. Somewhat like herself, she smiled. It had been two months since Ba'al's threat to Earth had been crushed. Two months since her husband's death.  
  
His betrayal had been glossed over, of course. The spin-doctors had ensured that Ambassador Faxon's death was portrayed in the most heroic light and there was no official mention of his duplicity concerning the Aschen. Her conduct had been naturally investigated. It meant a trip to Washington and a few hours of questioning, but she was completely exonerated. Of course, that might have had something to do with the three dress blues-suited AF Generals sitting protectively in a row behind her in the hearing room.  
  
Yeah. Three. Colonel O'Neill was a Colonel no longer. 'General' O'Neill was now in command of the off-world Beta site in preparation against a Goa'uld attack, and was spending much of his time there. Plans were also being drawn up for the establishment of an Epsilon site – a long-term settlement off-world. She smiled at the memory of Jack's gawping face when General Hammond announced his promotion in the middle of a top brass reception. And he had looked damn handsome in his new uniform when he played 'minder' on her de-briefing at the Pentagon. Not only was she was cleared of any involvement with the Aschen, she was also highly commended for her actions – apparently, Samuels had 'ordered' her to extract Colonel O'Neill from the Ha'tak. Major Carter was also a Major no longer – her promotion to Lt.Col. came through, and she was now in complete control of the science command at both the SGC and Area 51. General Hammond privately explained that TBTB couldn't afford to lose her off-world again; she was effectively Earth-bound. Not that she minded at the moment while she was still trying to get her life straight. There would be time to fight later.  
  
Sam rested her forearms on the flat wooden railing encircling the deck and gazed over the nearby lake, circling the beer bottle between her fingers. The waters lapped serenely in the silvery moonlight, curiously reminding her of her husband's funeral ceremony. Her small smile faded as she recalled Joe's parent's place in the mountains. It was quiet and refined, overlooking a still high-level lake. Although she was snubbed by her mother-in-law, Frances, her father-in-law had been quite kind toward her. Joe's house was sold, and since he had not changed his will, the proceeds were Sam's. Of course, she neither wanted, nor really needed the money, so she was now living back in her father's old house and most of the estate had been split between UNICEF and the local children's hospital that specialized in neo-natal care. It was the right thing to do; she knew it was. Frances Faxon stopped her sniping when she found that out. Closure.  
  
Sam gazed down at her wedding ring. She hadn't taken it off yet, but she was nearly ready to do so. Nearly. Of course, her engagement ring was lying at the bottom of a pond in Minnesota. The thought made her giggle as she took a swig of beer.  
  
"Hey, Carter, what's so funny?" O'Neill's voice came from behind her.  
  
"Nothing," she smiled as she tossed her head to face him. He looked tanned and quite relaxed in a dark navy shirt and chinos.  
  
"Well, whatchadoin'?" Jack was grinning as he asked, his dark eyes glittering in the subdued lighting.  
  
Her answering soft laugh made him smile even wider. Another sound of raucous laughter made them both peer within. "Drs. Jackson are kissing *again*," noted Jack, taking a swallow of beer. He stepped closer and rested his lean arms over the railings to the left of her.  
  
Sam swirled the dregs of her own beer about. "They're newly-weds, cut them some slack," she admonished lightly. "They won't have time when the baby comes." She watched Daniel place his arm around Janet as he was telling a story to Jonas and Becky in an animated fashion, then lean down and pat Janet's growing baby bump. It was pleasant surprise for everyone to learn that Daniel and Janet returned from San Francisco *married*, and then for Janet to blushingly admit that yes, she was pregnant and yes, she had gotten pregnant *before* they were married.  
  
"You okay?" She was being stared at. He was doing that a lot. Being there, checking on her. But in a non-suffocating way, thank God.  
  
She turned away from the happy scene, feeling a little guilty for people- watching so openly. "I'm fine, I'm very, *very* delighted for them."  
  
Jack nodded and finished the last of his beer. "Me too. Want another?" he asked, indicating her bottle.  
  
"No thanks." Yes, he was there for her; a comforting yet unassuming presence. He had waited outside McKenzie's office during her psych. sessions and dealt with the aftermath. He had been sworn at, cried over and on one occasion, she lashed out at him. He took it all, never once retaliating and never over stepping the mark; the perfect gentleman, defending a woman's honor. *This* woman's honor. Her Dad stayed around for a bit and watched all this with his usual quiet intensity. Then, suddenly, he announced his decision return to Nemtesh. When she asked him why his departure was so abrupt, he shrugged, smiled, and said simply: "You don't need me, kiddo; you've got him."  
  
Him being Jack. Not her 'Colonel' Jack. Someone else's 'General' Jack. No frat. regs.  
  
"Penny for them?" He was smiling at her again, but then frowned as she snickered. "I've told you, no sniggering." He shot her one of his serious looks. "I've been meaning to ask you."  
  
"Yeee-ssss?" she said slowly, in a 'this-better-be-good' voice.  
  
He gestured wildly with his bottle. "Back on the 'Prometheus', where the hell did you learn a phrase like 'All hands brace for impact' anyway? That's a naval term, I think."  
  
Here we go. "Star Trek."  
  
He spluttered. "Star Trek?! You've gotta be kiddin' me - mini skirts and big hair?"  
  
"Star Trek." Sam shrugged nonchalantly and relaxed against the railings.  
  
It was Jack's turn to snigger. "I never had you down as a Trekkie, Carter," he teased.  
  
"Nah, I just fancied the guy who played the Commander in the '80's." She smiled then, suddenly embarrassed. Perhaps she should return to the party.  
  
Jack furrowed his brows. "What? The bald Brit. that does Shakespeare on the side?"  
  
"Err, no, the tall guy with the beard, always looked worried." She shifted her feet.  
  
He straightened up. "Oh, tall eh? 'Bout 6''3'? Do you think I'd look good in a beard?" Jack held his chin first to one side and then the other for her perusal.  
  
"Only with 'Just for Men - mid brown'," she burst out, collapsing into giggles, and he followed her, both chuckling like 3rd graders.  
  
As their laughter subsided, a hush came over the kitchen. The partygoers were heading into the front room; Hammond must be going to give one of his speeches. "Do you think we should go in?" Sam asked, feeling a little awkward, alone on the balcony on a warm, moonlit - romantic - evening.  
  
Jack pursed his lips. "Leave it. We've heard it before, anyway."  
  
She nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Your hair looks nice." He gestured to her now properly cropped hair.  
  
She smiled and reached up to smooth down a few stray strands. "Thanks." If McKay told the story about how she cut her own hair with a Swiss army knife one more time, she would drop-kick him out of existence.  
  
Jack seemed to be debating something in his head. "Carter, can I ask you something else?"  
  
"I know of no way of stopping you, sir," she had the words out before she realized.  
  
Jack smirked. "Cute. I've taught you well." He paused to look out over the tranquil vista. "Why did you come back for me?"  
  
The evening suddenly seemed cooler, and the emerging stars that much brighter. This was the time for telling the truth; she couldn't believe that he had waited so long to ask her. "It was Ba'al. I wouldn't leave you there after what he did to you the last time." She began to scrape at the beer label with her fingernail.  
  
"No one gets left behind?" he asked gently, reaching over and taking the bottle from her hands and putting both empties on the table behind him.  
  
She nodded, and clasped her hands over the railing, not trusting herself to say any more.  
  
"Was there another reason?" He was pushing, but she was strong. "Carter?" She wasn't sure if she was ready for this. "Sam?"  
  
"You know why." Actually, she wasn't ready for this, but what the hell.  
  
"No, I don't." Typical Jack.  
  
She nodded again, averting her gaze. "Yes, you do."  
  
He leaned closer. "No, I don-"  
  
"I love you." There. She said it. At last.  
  
She could see him out of the corner of her eye as she stared at the lake. He wasn't reacting. He was standing with his left hand on the railing, looking down on it. He moved nearer, sliding his hand slowly along the wood until the tips of his fingers met hers. His palm lifted from the narrow platform and he spread his fingers wide. She understood and turned to face him, carefully interlacing his fingers with her own. Perhaps she had said too much? Perhaps it was too soon? Jack took a deep breath and released it slowly. He was staring at their clasped hands. He reached up to touch her Mother's cross and chain that was around her neck – she always wore it off duty now.  
  
"Hvor Finner vel Hjertet sin Sagligste Ro?" He said it more as a statement. ~ Where does the heart find its most blessed peace? ~  
  
"With you," she shuddered the answer out as a shaky breath, her emotions reeling. To her astonishment she saw his eyes glaze over and his mouth turn down. Never in all the time she had known him had she seen him cry. He had been angry, even raging, menacing, drunk, but never crying with emotion. She tightened her fingers around his.  
  
"Marry me?" he said simply, and raised his deep gaze to hers.  
  
She gaped. They hadn't even kissed. "Jack, if we do this, the rumor mill will explode on contact."  
  
He nodded. "I know that. We haven't done anything wrong. Let them talk."  
  
She paused. They were strong enough to cope with gossip, and their consciences were clear. "I'm not sure what sex will be like for me now, and I've had surgery." Time for the truth, indeed.  
  
"I guessed." He would help her; she knew *that*.  
  
Sam twisted the ring on her left hand. "I spent several months in another man's bed. Doesn't that bother you?"  
  
"A bit, but now I understand your longing for companionship." He was steadfast.  
  
Reason had now packed its bags and was heading south for the winter. "I would want to try for children, but I'm not sure if I can have them." Her heart was hammering and she was feeling very warm now.  
  
"Me too." He didn't take his eyes away.  
  
She was trembling and her breathing was uneven. So much for all the promises she had made to herself about not getting married again. She glanced away and back at him; he was waiting for an answer. "Okay, then."  
  
"Thank God for that!" He was smiling at her. An enigmatic, all encompassing smile she had only ever seen once before. His right hand was coming up to her face. His left hand had broken away from Sam's death-grip and was holding her waist. He leaned in and paused, his eyes searching. She smiled back and encircled his neck with her own hands and pulled him closer. His lips brushed lightly over hers, warm and soft, as seven years of Naquadah-enhanced emotional walls came crashing down.  
  
As the kiss intensified, the world was lost to them.  
  
********  
  
There were tears only twice.  
  
The first was on their wedding day during a quiet and private ceremony held on the mountain with only their closest friends for company. Sam started to cry just before the opening address and didn't stop until it was all over. Jack crushed her fiercely to his chest during the vows, ignoring the bemused looks from the base Chaplain. It didn't matter, because as Jack glanced up, he could see that most of their friends were crying too.  
  
The second was Jack's turn, almost a year later. Sam came home early, and taking his hands in hers, she gently placed them on her stomach, and with shining eyes told him he was to be a father again, and that everything was fine. He cried in her arms then, his face buried in her shoulder, an outpouring of the grief and emotion building since Charlie's death nearly ten years before. As Sam rocked and quieted her husband, her gaze wandered through the open windows to the trees moving in the warm breeze. It was summer now and their child was to be born in the spring. In the spring. It seemed appropriate somehow; a new life, a new beginning. Sam knew the future would hold many more problems for them all, but she felt that life's twisting kaleidoscope would leave them alone for a while.  
  
For now, Sam was content that it be so.  
  
The End  
  
********  
  
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2004  
  
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero) 


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